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The arts collective walking the tightrope between the physical and spiritual

Kaokao (2014). Photo / Supplied

The Mata Aho Collective has just been named as Arts Foundation Te Tumu Toi Laureates. Coming into their 10th year of friendship and collaboration, they come together to talk to Mairātea Mohi about friendship, trust and learning when to let go.

Weaving traditional knowledge into the fabrics of reality are the eight capable hands of the Mata Aho Collective. Choosing to personify atua Māori through larger than life installations, Erena Baker (Te Ātiawa ki Whakarongotai, Ngāti Toarangatira), Sarah Hudson (Ngāti Awa, Ngāi Tūhoe), Bridget Reweti (Ngāti Ranginui, Ngāi Te Rangi) and Terri Te Tau (Rangitāne, Ngāti Kahungunu ki Wairarapa) bring the metaphysical to the physical world. Using mātauranga (knowledge) and pūrākau Māori (myths) to inform their practice, they’re always asking how to make work “bigger” than themselves.

Gathering collectively from across the motu, we all Zoom-ed in to take a moment away from our current situations: catching Reweti in the koru lounge pre-flight and nabbing Hudson away from their busy schedule, all while I was taking a tour of my local landfill, high-vis and all, felt extremely serendipitous.

They talked at length about coincidences, fate and how the atua, or universe for some, provides. Te ao Māori consider Ranginui and Papatūānuku to be the inception of the physical world. But the Collective considers their beginning at Hineteiwaiwa and their first exhibition, Te Whare Pora (2012). 

The Mata Aho Collective. Photo / Supplied

Made from thick faux mink blankets, “minkies” were used as a vehicle to explore customary notions of wānanga, noho marae and women's experiences. Te Whare Pora embodied a house of learning, a space for obtaining knowledge. The atua of Te Whare Pora is Hineteiwaiwa who holds mana over childbirth and arts pursued by women, customarily fibre arts such as weaving. 

These blankets talked to today’s current economy; while manufactured offshore using synthetic materials they cater to specific markets by using identifiable kowhaiwhai patterns and the tino rangatiratanga flag. Foreign, but extremely familiar.

The collective thrives in these foreign, but familial spaces. They often bring knowledge passed on by rangatira into their practice with foreign made fibres. They quite literally fasten te ahurea Māori (the Māori culture) into these threads, entwining multiple people, cultures and places.

Te Tau infers that communities and connections inspire this process: “We like looking around and seeing what the community is doing, what they’re wearing.” She believes using the materials most visible out in the community includes more people in the conversation. 

What are they talking about? “Mana Wāhine”, the Collective says.

The Collective does not work to an agenda. However rooting work in uplifting and inspiring each other, need not be written in stone. The first thing to be set in cement was their name, the Mata Aho Collective.

“We often think back to when we were first making Te Whare Pora. We had no idea what was going to come after that, but we were quick to put a name to what we were doing because I suppose we are a collective,” Hudson says.

He Toka Tū Moana (2022). Photo / Supplied

Having first come together as rangatahi, they have grown not only into a strong collective - receiving the My Art Visual Arts award as part of this year’s group of Arts Foundation Te Tumu Toi Laureates - but four critically acclaimed artists with their own independent practices. They said this was only achieved through trust and learning how to let go. 

Each wāhine chimes in with their own interpretations of trust. To Te Tau, trust means stepping outside of yourself and following the group. She says it means, “chucking all the ideas into the pot and using whatever floats to the top to serve us now.”

Baker speaks about trusting the process and trusting in the universe. She says the space often speaks for itself so it’s important to look for tohu (signs) when creating. 

Whereas Reweti thinks trust is not only about believing in each other, but also learning to let go of expectations. “When we start off learning something, it’s not good. But we use these times to wānanga with each other and grow.”

Baker reminisces on the past. “I remember setting a small goal, ‘wouldn’t it be really nice to make something together once a year?’” 

Atapō detail with Maureen Lander (2020). Photo / Supplied

This goal has eventuated in the group showcasing across the globe and creating works from diverse materials such as marine ropes and tarpaulins. Now working on their 10th project together, they are challenging themselves by going back to basics, harakeke. 

Invoking the help of rangatira rāranga and museum curators they have taken themselves back to Te Whare Pora to learn and sit with te pā harakeke (the flax bushes).

Like atua, the pā harakeke holds meaning in the physical and celestial. While it describes bushels of flax, it is most often used in whaikōrero (speeches) and whakataukī (metaphors) as an understanding of family. So this 10th project embodies not only years of dedication and craft, but also represents whānau and friendship.

Creativity, evocative visual storytelling and good journalism come at a price. Support our work and join the Ensemble membership program
No items found.
Kaokao (2014). Photo / Supplied

The Mata Aho Collective has just been named as Arts Foundation Te Tumu Toi Laureates. Coming into their 10th year of friendship and collaboration, they come together to talk to Mairātea Mohi about friendship, trust and learning when to let go.

Weaving traditional knowledge into the fabrics of reality are the eight capable hands of the Mata Aho Collective. Choosing to personify atua Māori through larger than life installations, Erena Baker (Te Ātiawa ki Whakarongotai, Ngāti Toarangatira), Sarah Hudson (Ngāti Awa, Ngāi Tūhoe), Bridget Reweti (Ngāti Ranginui, Ngāi Te Rangi) and Terri Te Tau (Rangitāne, Ngāti Kahungunu ki Wairarapa) bring the metaphysical to the physical world. Using mātauranga (knowledge) and pūrākau Māori (myths) to inform their practice, they’re always asking how to make work “bigger” than themselves.

Gathering collectively from across the motu, we all Zoom-ed in to take a moment away from our current situations: catching Reweti in the koru lounge pre-flight and nabbing Hudson away from their busy schedule, all while I was taking a tour of my local landfill, high-vis and all, felt extremely serendipitous.

They talked at length about coincidences, fate and how the atua, or universe for some, provides. Te ao Māori consider Ranginui and Papatūānuku to be the inception of the physical world. But the Collective considers their beginning at Hineteiwaiwa and their first exhibition, Te Whare Pora (2012). 

The Mata Aho Collective. Photo / Supplied

Made from thick faux mink blankets, “minkies” were used as a vehicle to explore customary notions of wānanga, noho marae and women's experiences. Te Whare Pora embodied a house of learning, a space for obtaining knowledge. The atua of Te Whare Pora is Hineteiwaiwa who holds mana over childbirth and arts pursued by women, customarily fibre arts such as weaving. 

These blankets talked to today’s current economy; while manufactured offshore using synthetic materials they cater to specific markets by using identifiable kowhaiwhai patterns and the tino rangatiratanga flag. Foreign, but extremely familiar.

The collective thrives in these foreign, but familial spaces. They often bring knowledge passed on by rangatira into their practice with foreign made fibres. They quite literally fasten te ahurea Māori (the Māori culture) into these threads, entwining multiple people, cultures and places.

Te Tau infers that communities and connections inspire this process: “We like looking around and seeing what the community is doing, what they’re wearing.” She believes using the materials most visible out in the community includes more people in the conversation. 

What are they talking about? “Mana Wāhine”, the Collective says.

The Collective does not work to an agenda. However rooting work in uplifting and inspiring each other, need not be written in stone. The first thing to be set in cement was their name, the Mata Aho Collective.

“We often think back to when we were first making Te Whare Pora. We had no idea what was going to come after that, but we were quick to put a name to what we were doing because I suppose we are a collective,” Hudson says.

He Toka Tū Moana (2022). Photo / Supplied

Having first come together as rangatahi, they have grown not only into a strong collective - receiving the My Art Visual Arts award as part of this year’s group of Arts Foundation Te Tumu Toi Laureates - but four critically acclaimed artists with their own independent practices. They said this was only achieved through trust and learning how to let go. 

Each wāhine chimes in with their own interpretations of trust. To Te Tau, trust means stepping outside of yourself and following the group. She says it means, “chucking all the ideas into the pot and using whatever floats to the top to serve us now.”

Baker speaks about trusting the process and trusting in the universe. She says the space often speaks for itself so it’s important to look for tohu (signs) when creating. 

Whereas Reweti thinks trust is not only about believing in each other, but also learning to let go of expectations. “When we start off learning something, it’s not good. But we use these times to wānanga with each other and grow.”

Baker reminisces on the past. “I remember setting a small goal, ‘wouldn’t it be really nice to make something together once a year?’” 

Atapō detail with Maureen Lander (2020). Photo / Supplied

This goal has eventuated in the group showcasing across the globe and creating works from diverse materials such as marine ropes and tarpaulins. Now working on their 10th project together, they are challenging themselves by going back to basics, harakeke. 

Invoking the help of rangatira rāranga and museum curators they have taken themselves back to Te Whare Pora to learn and sit with te pā harakeke (the flax bushes).

Like atua, the pā harakeke holds meaning in the physical and celestial. While it describes bushels of flax, it is most often used in whaikōrero (speeches) and whakataukī (metaphors) as an understanding of family. So this 10th project embodies not only years of dedication and craft, but also represents whānau and friendship.

Creativity, evocative visual storytelling and good journalism come at a price. Support our work and join the Ensemble membership program
No items found.

The arts collective walking the tightrope between the physical and spiritual

Kaokao (2014). Photo / Supplied

The Mata Aho Collective has just been named as Arts Foundation Te Tumu Toi Laureates. Coming into their 10th year of friendship and collaboration, they come together to talk to Mairātea Mohi about friendship, trust and learning when to let go.

Weaving traditional knowledge into the fabrics of reality are the eight capable hands of the Mata Aho Collective. Choosing to personify atua Māori through larger than life installations, Erena Baker (Te Ātiawa ki Whakarongotai, Ngāti Toarangatira), Sarah Hudson (Ngāti Awa, Ngāi Tūhoe), Bridget Reweti (Ngāti Ranginui, Ngāi Te Rangi) and Terri Te Tau (Rangitāne, Ngāti Kahungunu ki Wairarapa) bring the metaphysical to the physical world. Using mātauranga (knowledge) and pūrākau Māori (myths) to inform their practice, they’re always asking how to make work “bigger” than themselves.

Gathering collectively from across the motu, we all Zoom-ed in to take a moment away from our current situations: catching Reweti in the koru lounge pre-flight and nabbing Hudson away from their busy schedule, all while I was taking a tour of my local landfill, high-vis and all, felt extremely serendipitous.

They talked at length about coincidences, fate and how the atua, or universe for some, provides. Te ao Māori consider Ranginui and Papatūānuku to be the inception of the physical world. But the Collective considers their beginning at Hineteiwaiwa and their first exhibition, Te Whare Pora (2012). 

The Mata Aho Collective. Photo / Supplied

Made from thick faux mink blankets, “minkies” were used as a vehicle to explore customary notions of wānanga, noho marae and women's experiences. Te Whare Pora embodied a house of learning, a space for obtaining knowledge. The atua of Te Whare Pora is Hineteiwaiwa who holds mana over childbirth and arts pursued by women, customarily fibre arts such as weaving. 

These blankets talked to today’s current economy; while manufactured offshore using synthetic materials they cater to specific markets by using identifiable kowhaiwhai patterns and the tino rangatiratanga flag. Foreign, but extremely familiar.

The collective thrives in these foreign, but familial spaces. They often bring knowledge passed on by rangatira into their practice with foreign made fibres. They quite literally fasten te ahurea Māori (the Māori culture) into these threads, entwining multiple people, cultures and places.

Te Tau infers that communities and connections inspire this process: “We like looking around and seeing what the community is doing, what they’re wearing.” She believes using the materials most visible out in the community includes more people in the conversation. 

What are they talking about? “Mana Wāhine”, the Collective says.

The Collective does not work to an agenda. However rooting work in uplifting and inspiring each other, need not be written in stone. The first thing to be set in cement was their name, the Mata Aho Collective.

“We often think back to when we were first making Te Whare Pora. We had no idea what was going to come after that, but we were quick to put a name to what we were doing because I suppose we are a collective,” Hudson says.

He Toka Tū Moana (2022). Photo / Supplied

Having first come together as rangatahi, they have grown not only into a strong collective - receiving the My Art Visual Arts award as part of this year’s group of Arts Foundation Te Tumu Toi Laureates - but four critically acclaimed artists with their own independent practices. They said this was only achieved through trust and learning how to let go. 

Each wāhine chimes in with their own interpretations of trust. To Te Tau, trust means stepping outside of yourself and following the group. She says it means, “chucking all the ideas into the pot and using whatever floats to the top to serve us now.”

Baker speaks about trusting the process and trusting in the universe. She says the space often speaks for itself so it’s important to look for tohu (signs) when creating. 

Whereas Reweti thinks trust is not only about believing in each other, but also learning to let go of expectations. “When we start off learning something, it’s not good. But we use these times to wānanga with each other and grow.”

Baker reminisces on the past. “I remember setting a small goal, ‘wouldn’t it be really nice to make something together once a year?’” 

Atapō detail with Maureen Lander (2020). Photo / Supplied

This goal has eventuated in the group showcasing across the globe and creating works from diverse materials such as marine ropes and tarpaulins. Now working on their 10th project together, they are challenging themselves by going back to basics, harakeke. 

Invoking the help of rangatira rāranga and museum curators they have taken themselves back to Te Whare Pora to learn and sit with te pā harakeke (the flax bushes).

Like atua, the pā harakeke holds meaning in the physical and celestial. While it describes bushels of flax, it is most often used in whaikōrero (speeches) and whakataukī (metaphors) as an understanding of family. So this 10th project embodies not only years of dedication and craft, but also represents whānau and friendship.

No items found.
Creativity, evocative visual storytelling and good journalism come at a price. Support our work and join the Ensemble membership program

The arts collective walking the tightrope between the physical and spiritual

Kaokao (2014). Photo / Supplied

The Mata Aho Collective has just been named as Arts Foundation Te Tumu Toi Laureates. Coming into their 10th year of friendship and collaboration, they come together to talk to Mairātea Mohi about friendship, trust and learning when to let go.

Weaving traditional knowledge into the fabrics of reality are the eight capable hands of the Mata Aho Collective. Choosing to personify atua Māori through larger than life installations, Erena Baker (Te Ātiawa ki Whakarongotai, Ngāti Toarangatira), Sarah Hudson (Ngāti Awa, Ngāi Tūhoe), Bridget Reweti (Ngāti Ranginui, Ngāi Te Rangi) and Terri Te Tau (Rangitāne, Ngāti Kahungunu ki Wairarapa) bring the metaphysical to the physical world. Using mātauranga (knowledge) and pūrākau Māori (myths) to inform their practice, they’re always asking how to make work “bigger” than themselves.

Gathering collectively from across the motu, we all Zoom-ed in to take a moment away from our current situations: catching Reweti in the koru lounge pre-flight and nabbing Hudson away from their busy schedule, all while I was taking a tour of my local landfill, high-vis and all, felt extremely serendipitous.

They talked at length about coincidences, fate and how the atua, or universe for some, provides. Te ao Māori consider Ranginui and Papatūānuku to be the inception of the physical world. But the Collective considers their beginning at Hineteiwaiwa and their first exhibition, Te Whare Pora (2012). 

The Mata Aho Collective. Photo / Supplied

Made from thick faux mink blankets, “minkies” were used as a vehicle to explore customary notions of wānanga, noho marae and women's experiences. Te Whare Pora embodied a house of learning, a space for obtaining knowledge. The atua of Te Whare Pora is Hineteiwaiwa who holds mana over childbirth and arts pursued by women, customarily fibre arts such as weaving. 

These blankets talked to today’s current economy; while manufactured offshore using synthetic materials they cater to specific markets by using identifiable kowhaiwhai patterns and the tino rangatiratanga flag. Foreign, but extremely familiar.

The collective thrives in these foreign, but familial spaces. They often bring knowledge passed on by rangatira into their practice with foreign made fibres. They quite literally fasten te ahurea Māori (the Māori culture) into these threads, entwining multiple people, cultures and places.

Te Tau infers that communities and connections inspire this process: “We like looking around and seeing what the community is doing, what they’re wearing.” She believes using the materials most visible out in the community includes more people in the conversation. 

What are they talking about? “Mana Wāhine”, the Collective says.

The Collective does not work to an agenda. However rooting work in uplifting and inspiring each other, need not be written in stone. The first thing to be set in cement was their name, the Mata Aho Collective.

“We often think back to when we were first making Te Whare Pora. We had no idea what was going to come after that, but we were quick to put a name to what we were doing because I suppose we are a collective,” Hudson says.

He Toka Tū Moana (2022). Photo / Supplied

Having first come together as rangatahi, they have grown not only into a strong collective - receiving the My Art Visual Arts award as part of this year’s group of Arts Foundation Te Tumu Toi Laureates - but four critically acclaimed artists with their own independent practices. They said this was only achieved through trust and learning how to let go. 

Each wāhine chimes in with their own interpretations of trust. To Te Tau, trust means stepping outside of yourself and following the group. She says it means, “chucking all the ideas into the pot and using whatever floats to the top to serve us now.”

Baker speaks about trusting the process and trusting in the universe. She says the space often speaks for itself so it’s important to look for tohu (signs) when creating. 

Whereas Reweti thinks trust is not only about believing in each other, but also learning to let go of expectations. “When we start off learning something, it’s not good. But we use these times to wānanga with each other and grow.”

Baker reminisces on the past. “I remember setting a small goal, ‘wouldn’t it be really nice to make something together once a year?’” 

Atapō detail with Maureen Lander (2020). Photo / Supplied

This goal has eventuated in the group showcasing across the globe and creating works from diverse materials such as marine ropes and tarpaulins. Now working on their 10th project together, they are challenging themselves by going back to basics, harakeke. 

Invoking the help of rangatira rāranga and museum curators they have taken themselves back to Te Whare Pora to learn and sit with te pā harakeke (the flax bushes).

Like atua, the pā harakeke holds meaning in the physical and celestial. While it describes bushels of flax, it is most often used in whaikōrero (speeches) and whakataukī (metaphors) as an understanding of family. So this 10th project embodies not only years of dedication and craft, but also represents whānau and friendship.

Creativity, evocative visual storytelling and good journalism come at a price. Support our work and join the Ensemble membership program
No items found.
Kaokao (2014). Photo / Supplied

The Mata Aho Collective has just been named as Arts Foundation Te Tumu Toi Laureates. Coming into their 10th year of friendship and collaboration, they come together to talk to Mairātea Mohi about friendship, trust and learning when to let go.

Weaving traditional knowledge into the fabrics of reality are the eight capable hands of the Mata Aho Collective. Choosing to personify atua Māori through larger than life installations, Erena Baker (Te Ātiawa ki Whakarongotai, Ngāti Toarangatira), Sarah Hudson (Ngāti Awa, Ngāi Tūhoe), Bridget Reweti (Ngāti Ranginui, Ngāi Te Rangi) and Terri Te Tau (Rangitāne, Ngāti Kahungunu ki Wairarapa) bring the metaphysical to the physical world. Using mātauranga (knowledge) and pūrākau Māori (myths) to inform their practice, they’re always asking how to make work “bigger” than themselves.

Gathering collectively from across the motu, we all Zoom-ed in to take a moment away from our current situations: catching Reweti in the koru lounge pre-flight and nabbing Hudson away from their busy schedule, all while I was taking a tour of my local landfill, high-vis and all, felt extremely serendipitous.

They talked at length about coincidences, fate and how the atua, or universe for some, provides. Te ao Māori consider Ranginui and Papatūānuku to be the inception of the physical world. But the Collective considers their beginning at Hineteiwaiwa and their first exhibition, Te Whare Pora (2012). 

The Mata Aho Collective. Photo / Supplied

Made from thick faux mink blankets, “minkies” were used as a vehicle to explore customary notions of wānanga, noho marae and women's experiences. Te Whare Pora embodied a house of learning, a space for obtaining knowledge. The atua of Te Whare Pora is Hineteiwaiwa who holds mana over childbirth and arts pursued by women, customarily fibre arts such as weaving. 

These blankets talked to today’s current economy; while manufactured offshore using synthetic materials they cater to specific markets by using identifiable kowhaiwhai patterns and the tino rangatiratanga flag. Foreign, but extremely familiar.

The collective thrives in these foreign, but familial spaces. They often bring knowledge passed on by rangatira into their practice with foreign made fibres. They quite literally fasten te ahurea Māori (the Māori culture) into these threads, entwining multiple people, cultures and places.

Te Tau infers that communities and connections inspire this process: “We like looking around and seeing what the community is doing, what they’re wearing.” She believes using the materials most visible out in the community includes more people in the conversation. 

What are they talking about? “Mana Wāhine”, the Collective says.

The Collective does not work to an agenda. However rooting work in uplifting and inspiring each other, need not be written in stone. The first thing to be set in cement was their name, the Mata Aho Collective.

“We often think back to when we were first making Te Whare Pora. We had no idea what was going to come after that, but we were quick to put a name to what we were doing because I suppose we are a collective,” Hudson says.

He Toka Tū Moana (2022). Photo / Supplied

Having first come together as rangatahi, they have grown not only into a strong collective - receiving the My Art Visual Arts award as part of this year’s group of Arts Foundation Te Tumu Toi Laureates - but four critically acclaimed artists with their own independent practices. They said this was only achieved through trust and learning how to let go. 

Each wāhine chimes in with their own interpretations of trust. To Te Tau, trust means stepping outside of yourself and following the group. She says it means, “chucking all the ideas into the pot and using whatever floats to the top to serve us now.”

Baker speaks about trusting the process and trusting in the universe. She says the space often speaks for itself so it’s important to look for tohu (signs) when creating. 

Whereas Reweti thinks trust is not only about believing in each other, but also learning to let go of expectations. “When we start off learning something, it’s not good. But we use these times to wānanga with each other and grow.”

Baker reminisces on the past. “I remember setting a small goal, ‘wouldn’t it be really nice to make something together once a year?’” 

Atapō detail with Maureen Lander (2020). Photo / Supplied

This goal has eventuated in the group showcasing across the globe and creating works from diverse materials such as marine ropes and tarpaulins. Now working on their 10th project together, they are challenging themselves by going back to basics, harakeke. 

Invoking the help of rangatira rāranga and museum curators they have taken themselves back to Te Whare Pora to learn and sit with te pā harakeke (the flax bushes).

Like atua, the pā harakeke holds meaning in the physical and celestial. While it describes bushels of flax, it is most often used in whaikōrero (speeches) and whakataukī (metaphors) as an understanding of family. So this 10th project embodies not only years of dedication and craft, but also represents whānau and friendship.

No items found.
Creativity, evocative visual storytelling and good journalism come at a price. Support our work and join the Ensemble membership program

The arts collective walking the tightrope between the physical and spiritual

Kaokao (2014). Photo / Supplied

The Mata Aho Collective has just been named as Arts Foundation Te Tumu Toi Laureates. Coming into their 10th year of friendship and collaboration, they come together to talk to Mairātea Mohi about friendship, trust and learning when to let go.

Weaving traditional knowledge into the fabrics of reality are the eight capable hands of the Mata Aho Collective. Choosing to personify atua Māori through larger than life installations, Erena Baker (Te Ātiawa ki Whakarongotai, Ngāti Toarangatira), Sarah Hudson (Ngāti Awa, Ngāi Tūhoe), Bridget Reweti (Ngāti Ranginui, Ngāi Te Rangi) and Terri Te Tau (Rangitāne, Ngāti Kahungunu ki Wairarapa) bring the metaphysical to the physical world. Using mātauranga (knowledge) and pūrākau Māori (myths) to inform their practice, they’re always asking how to make work “bigger” than themselves.

Gathering collectively from across the motu, we all Zoom-ed in to take a moment away from our current situations: catching Reweti in the koru lounge pre-flight and nabbing Hudson away from their busy schedule, all while I was taking a tour of my local landfill, high-vis and all, felt extremely serendipitous.

They talked at length about coincidences, fate and how the atua, or universe for some, provides. Te ao Māori consider Ranginui and Papatūānuku to be the inception of the physical world. But the Collective considers their beginning at Hineteiwaiwa and their first exhibition, Te Whare Pora (2012). 

The Mata Aho Collective. Photo / Supplied

Made from thick faux mink blankets, “minkies” were used as a vehicle to explore customary notions of wānanga, noho marae and women's experiences. Te Whare Pora embodied a house of learning, a space for obtaining knowledge. The atua of Te Whare Pora is Hineteiwaiwa who holds mana over childbirth and arts pursued by women, customarily fibre arts such as weaving. 

These blankets talked to today’s current economy; while manufactured offshore using synthetic materials they cater to specific markets by using identifiable kowhaiwhai patterns and the tino rangatiratanga flag. Foreign, but extremely familiar.

The collective thrives in these foreign, but familial spaces. They often bring knowledge passed on by rangatira into their practice with foreign made fibres. They quite literally fasten te ahurea Māori (the Māori culture) into these threads, entwining multiple people, cultures and places.

Te Tau infers that communities and connections inspire this process: “We like looking around and seeing what the community is doing, what they’re wearing.” She believes using the materials most visible out in the community includes more people in the conversation. 

What are they talking about? “Mana Wāhine”, the Collective says.

The Collective does not work to an agenda. However rooting work in uplifting and inspiring each other, need not be written in stone. The first thing to be set in cement was their name, the Mata Aho Collective.

“We often think back to when we were first making Te Whare Pora. We had no idea what was going to come after that, but we were quick to put a name to what we were doing because I suppose we are a collective,” Hudson says.

He Toka Tū Moana (2022). Photo / Supplied

Having first come together as rangatahi, they have grown not only into a strong collective - receiving the My Art Visual Arts award as part of this year’s group of Arts Foundation Te Tumu Toi Laureates - but four critically acclaimed artists with their own independent practices. They said this was only achieved through trust and learning how to let go. 

Each wāhine chimes in with their own interpretations of trust. To Te Tau, trust means stepping outside of yourself and following the group. She says it means, “chucking all the ideas into the pot and using whatever floats to the top to serve us now.”

Baker speaks about trusting the process and trusting in the universe. She says the space often speaks for itself so it’s important to look for tohu (signs) when creating. 

Whereas Reweti thinks trust is not only about believing in each other, but also learning to let go of expectations. “When we start off learning something, it’s not good. But we use these times to wānanga with each other and grow.”

Baker reminisces on the past. “I remember setting a small goal, ‘wouldn’t it be really nice to make something together once a year?’” 

Atapō detail with Maureen Lander (2020). Photo / Supplied

This goal has eventuated in the group showcasing across the globe and creating works from diverse materials such as marine ropes and tarpaulins. Now working on their 10th project together, they are challenging themselves by going back to basics, harakeke. 

Invoking the help of rangatira rāranga and museum curators they have taken themselves back to Te Whare Pora to learn and sit with te pā harakeke (the flax bushes).

Like atua, the pā harakeke holds meaning in the physical and celestial. While it describes bushels of flax, it is most often used in whaikōrero (speeches) and whakataukī (metaphors) as an understanding of family. So this 10th project embodies not only years of dedication and craft, but also represents whānau and friendship.

Creativity, evocative visual storytelling and good journalism come at a price. Support our work and join the Ensemble membership program
No items found.