Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival, 2020

Now that we’ve all got a few early nights under our belts, it feels like a good time to reflect on the second year of Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival.

Each edition has been deeply influenced by the circumstances of the year in which they were held. Last year the inaugural Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival coincided with Tuia 250 and as Tama Waipara noted, “everybody was exhausted.  Iwi were getting up every morning to stand up kaupapa across the district” and emotion was high. The Festival was brand new, the tickets were cheap, and between Tuia 250 and the Festival there was a lot going on.

This year Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival coincided delightfully with a return to Level 1 – a turn of phrase that wouldn’t have meant a thing to anyone a year ago. In this year so utterly defined by the Covid-19 Pandemic, TTAF 2020 in Level 1 offered the perfect excuse for us all to re-emerge and reconnect. Tama reflected on the “presence of uplift” as people came out and “reclaimed space after a period of anxiety, fear and worry with lockdown”. 

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You will not find an arts festival like Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival anywhere else in the country, as it is by its very definition ‘of this place’. Firmly rooted in Tangatawhenuatanga, it is place-based and comes from the knowledge that we are all culturally located. It is a space that has been claimed for our stories, in our voices, for our people.

I have enjoyed the aspects of continuity from 2019 to 2020.  Just as the Festival itself has settled into its own bones, so too has Te Ara I Whiti grown into itself, this year bringing the riverbank alive with barefoot kids in pyjamas and parents jogging to keep up. It was cool to be able to wander amongst the light installations and sculptures and be able to guess at the artists behind the works, knowing that through this platform and over time, the expressions of our artists become a recognisable and familiar part of our story.

It has been awesome to see in ourselves a community which can and does engage with the arts, which shows up to theatres and other venues in droves, steps up and interacts as active participant when asked to do so; a community that floods our eateries and bars before and after events, who can and do bring our CBD to life when the goods are there on offer.

It has been heartening to both observe and experience the flow-on effect of inspiration – the inspiration derived from bearing witness to, or experiencing the creative expression of another, especially when that creative expression comes from someone who looks or sounds like you, who lives in the same part of town as you, or who you might recognise from the farmer’s market.  I look forward to seeing who is compelled to add their voice to Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival stable in the future after experiencing what they have in this year’s offerings.

Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival will be a potent force for many many years to come, in helping our community find its voice; its many voices, offering us the opportunity to understand ourselves and each other better.  Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival also offers an important platform for our creatives, laying down the challenge, ‘What is your expression of this place, your place and your people, in these times? What will you add to this story?’

Words Sarah Cleave

Photographs Tom Teutenberg


I recently resigned from my job to look after my mental health. Just a few hours later I found myself sitting next to Sarah from Gizzy Local and somehow, in a brief kōrero, we shared honesty and understanding around mental health. 

After I left my job I thought life was going to get better, and then even better. But that’s not always how the story goes. I remember lying in bed, feeling physically incapable of getting up. I wondered how much water I needed, to replace the stuff streaming from my eyes. I felt groggy drunk with shame and inadequacy. The work I’d left was not easy by anyone’s standards, but the incredible people around me were sticking it out, with far busier lives and way more on their plate than me, so why couldn’t I? 

I slid a prescription across the pharmacy counter and felt like I’d failed. Having spent the last 10 years managing my mental health without medication — through exercise, meditation, creativity and mindset education — here I was. Antidepressants can take up to 4 weeks to work. Yikes. It sounded like a very long time. 

Back in bed, popping my first pill, I read through the long list of potential side-effects like it was the menu at a really bad restaurant. Insomnia was the special of the day, with a side of nausea and dizziness. Slamming the door shut to the one place I could escape to, I spent 4 nights owl-eyed in bed while venlafaxine tried to rally the sad and sluggish neurotransmitters in my brain.

Telling my flatmates (puffy eyed and wearing a dressing gown) that ‘I’ll return as a butterfly!’, I drove non-stop to Wellington to cocoon away with whānau and be looked after while adjusting to the medication. I manifested a transformation. It took longer than expected and I kept thinking “next week I’ll find work and get myself back together.”  It didn’t feel true even as I said it. My body and mind demanded stillness and patience while wings formed beneath my skin. It was a few weeks before I noticed they were there and longer still for them to unfurl. 

Now I’m a full-time artist pumping things out on social media as I take on an art challenge for the last 100 days of my twenties. It all looks very “go-get-it-girl!” and it’s nice to feel and share the excitement. It also feels important to share my humanness and be authentic. The project was born from a vulnerable and challenging place. I’ve bounced back with a resiliency owed to mental health education, financial security, family support and no dependants. 

When I think of those among us who live with depression while managing things like poverty, family violence, drug or alcohol abuse and the responsibility of looking after kids or the elderly, I recognise the incredible strength in our community and how many unsung courageous individuals we have here. 

One day, I’d like to be as comfortable telling my boss I need a day off for my mental health, as I would telling them that I have a cold. One of the top 5 leading causes of death in Aotearoa is people taking their own lives and yet we are still not in a place where taking “mental health days” is encouraged, normalised or fully accepted. Are we okay with that? Sharing our stories and strategies helps reduce shame and shows how common but complicated mental illness is. Checking in on each other, normalising kōrero about mental illness and encouraging healthy social catch-ups (e.g. a hīkoi up Titirangi instead of a beer) are all ways that we can make a change.

It’s no fun being swallowed up, but when the black dog spits you out, you might just catch the wave of your life.

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Words & Moving Images by Stephanie Barnett. Photograph X Ellen Taylor

Find more of Steph’s work & follow her 100 day project on Instagram @ stephmarybarnett or www.facebook.com/steph.barnett.77


Kahu Ngata & the New School

A year and a half ago Kahurangi Ngata decided to take control of his own learning and life. His first decision was to forgo his final year of high school, Year 13.  Instead, with his parents’ blessing he would set out into the world that awaited beyond the school gates, with dreams of exploring art and gathering ideas for his future, whilst keeping ‘as busy as possible’.

Since then Kahu has been on a path that has taken him to parts of the country he’s never been before, alongside new people as well as friends and whanau. Kahu seems to have this ability to see opportunities for learning in everything he does and in everyone he meets. When we spoke he had this shiny-eyed enthusiasm and excitement, which was both compelling and reassuring.

When Kahu first set out to explore Art eighteen months ago, he had a few ideas about the kind of art he thought he wanted to do, but these have altered course and amplified in scale along the way. A month spent at animation studio Nyuk Nyuk Studios in Wellington, alongside his uncle, helped Kahu realise that animation wasn’t really for him after all. But he soaked up all he could from a guy who was back home from eight years of oil painting in Florence, learning how to transpose age-old methodologies from paint brush to his ipad pen; old to new.

Last year also presented Kahu with the opportunity to volunteer with the Seawalls crew in Gisborne, and it was through this experience Kahu discovered his love of the large-scale artwork. Not only does the outdoor aspect appeal but he’s found that spray painting works well with his fast and unstructured, loosely-planned style, ‘if I plan too much, or try to repeat an idea, I usually find it just doesn’t work or look how I want it to look’. Kahu completed his first mural The Tui & The Kākā at Solander Cellars in March this year.

‘Do you know that I’m interested in Birds? I could talk about birds for ages’ says Kahu. A trip to the Zealandia Ecosanctuary in Wellington has turned Kahu into an avid researcher of birds. While he has always enjoyed drawing bird life, these days Kahu will take any opportunity to get closer to them, which has variously included tramping with friends, spending time with some people he knows who look after birds and visiting Wingspan in Rotorua.

Kahu seems entirely happy to be painted with the ‘Birder’ brush; he’s fascinated by the uniqueness of our bird life in Aotearoa and their role in our country’s history. Interesting facts and anecdotes about birds spilled from Kahu as we spoke, his infectious enthusiasm and sense of wonder that made me want to go straight home and delve into all the old bird books on our bookcase.

Kahu’s family’s involvement with the Te Toki Voyaging Trust (his dad Morgan was crew on the waka that travelled from Auckland to te Tairawhiti in 2017 and his mum Cleo crewed on the Waka that went to Norfolk Island last year) has piqued Kahu’s own interest in what is being called the ‘Waka Renaissance’ in Aotearoa and led to his own involvement with the Trust.

Lately he has been based up in Auckland volunteering with Te Toki. He helps out with boat maintenance, preparing the waka for Tuia 250 commemorations later this year, and is involved in the training sessions, all the while absorbing as much knowledge as he can from the people around him.  The experience has added another aspiration to his hopes for his future which is to be involved with the waka that will travel to the Pacific next year. Being away from Gisborne and immersed in the intensity of our biggest most hectic city has also given Kahu a newfound appreciation for Home.

While Kahu’s experiences in this past while have undoubtedly been aided by supportive whanau and open doors around the country, it is Kahu’s own focus and openness to learning from any person he might come across and any situation he finds himself in, that make him a great poster boy for the case of self-directed learning. 

So while not everyone always has access to such support networks, we do all have the ability to open our eyes to the fact that teachers and learning opportunities reside around every corner, across every table. Just as Kahu is continually soaking up ideas, inspiration and imagery from everything he can, I came away from our conversation with scribbled notes to myself about birds to look up, new bands to check out.

I also brought away a reminder to myself about the importance of listening to our young people, just as they are listening, and trying to learn from our mistakes.

Thanks Kahu.

Story by Sarah Cleave
Images created by Kahu Ngata

Who is Dreamspace?

Anna Devcich poses the question ‘Who is Dreamspace?’

He is Peter Harris,
He is Philosophy,
He is Beauty, Truth, Love and Freedom.
He is Ferrocement, DreamHavens,
He is Blank Canvases, Freshly Painted Artworks,
He is Books and Bookshelves made from Free Wood.
He is Driftwood from Town Beach and Intricate, Fantastical Carvings,
He is the Roof that Houses the Unhousable:
Peter Harris’ Creative Brain.

Yes, Dreamspace Workshop and Gallery sprouted up on the outskirts of Gisborne CBD in 2016, a huge building that surely would fit all of Peter Harris’ creations, with room for other artistic souls? It turns out that his creative brain has infinite permutations, nigh on impossible to be accommodated under one tangible roof.

During the ensuing three years, Peter has magnetised an eclectic collection of people, who have recently helped to rejig, declutter, and de-dust the Dreamspace premises, to create a little space for themselves to showcase their creations alongside Peter’s. He is over the Moon, so to speak.

The result of this intertwining of creative people under the Dreamspace Roof, is the upcoming Dreamspace Bazaar (or is it Bizarre? …both.) It will share the magic of co-creation with any adventurous spirit who dares to step foot over the threshold!

So go on, be daring, and visit Dreamspace on the 6th of July, to be delighted by the creativity, the workmanship, the colour, the music, the friendliness, the…bizarre that is Dreamspace!

Story by Anna Devcich.

Photos by Tom Teutenberg.

Aaron Compton Whites About Four Legged Art

When Torri Stewart’s husband tried to take a photo of Sid Vicious he got bitten.

Sid Vicious was my dog. Torri is a pet portraitist.  Under the moniker Four Legged Art, she draws character-filled portraits of beloved furry family members, using coloured pencils and watercolours.

Throughout her life Torri has drawn portraits of the pets of friends and family members — often as memorials, after the animals had died — and on seeing how much pleasure people got from her art she wanted to do more. It wasn’t until she came to Gisborne, however, that she started to make a business from her talent.

“What amazes me about Gisborne is that when people come here, instead of just doing what they do, they start exploring what they could do. I reckon it’s tapped into that entrepreneurial spirit people have,”

Torri and her young family moved to Gisborne two years ago after her husband, a food technologist, began working for Leaderbrand.

“It’s so beautiful here, it makes you stop and appreciate where you are and that makes you reflect on what you’re doing. That’s it for me anyway, the beaches definitely did that for me.”

Originally from Scotland, Torri has always been fascinated by art. She wanted to study art at high school but the timing clashed with a science class she had chosen. At university she did art history papers as well as English literature, and the love of art stayed with her.

Art activities with her children made her think about taking it more seriously.

“I was sitting with the kids, doing a little arts session, and after a number of these sessions, where I discovered I was still sitting at the table drawing after the kids had moved onto another activity, I realised that I was really, really enjoying it, so I started thinking–  why can’t I do more art?”

Creation of art has positive outcomes for mental wellbeing and mindfulness, and this was also something Torri wanted to explore.

“So I drew a duck, I drew a horse, just to see if I could. The portraits I’d done in the past had all been black and white pencil, so I thought: I’m going to try doing them in coloured pencil. It was lovely to discover I could do it.”

After this initial success Torri contacted some friends and asked if they’d be interested in commissioning portraits as Christmas presents. That was the beginning, and it took off from there.

“I did say if you don’t like it you don’t have to pay for it. But they turned out really well.”

And so, Four Legged Art was born.

Now that she’s established her process, Torri says that working from photos, she can take a so-so image and make it into something special.

“The best portraits I do are from really good photos, but if you give me a very blurred picture I can create a portrait from that, just without the fine detail. Often it’s those portraits that can trigger an emotional reaction more in the owners because all they’ve had to look at is a blurry photo. When I isolate the animal from that photo and do a picture of them, the mind kind of fills in the gaps. It makes a lot of people cry. There’s not many jobs that measure success in tears.”

It’s particularly emotional when the pet has a sad story, as with rescue dogs. Torri says this is part of why she was determined to give something back.

“It’s a measure of how much people love these animals, when they want to spend money on a portrait, and my thinking was: there are all these horses and dogs and cats and rabbits that don’t have that level of love, so it would be nice to take some of that and invest it back across,”

As well as donating some of her income to the SPCA, Torri has worked with Wellington Rabbit Rescue. She’s drawn a few of their rabbits and also designed Super Binky Bunny, a character used on promotional and fund-raising material.

Torri’s plans for the future involve more fine art projects based around local beaches.

“I’m fascinated by objects on the beach and the way you can walk on the beach and look down and it’s like someone has created this perfect composition. I’d love to get into drawing those.”

She says her experiences in Gisborne, and the people she’s met here, made her realise that’s what’s possible is what you decide to do.

“That made me question what I want to do and I realised I get a lot of pleasure from art.”

This writer can vouch for the pleasure her art gives to others. Her portrait of Sid Vicious, R.I.P., hangs in a prime position in my house.

Torri’s husband has made a full recovery.

To order your own unique artwork contact Torri on her facebook page