Writer’s Residency : Writings
Ngaio Simmons
4 September – 30 October 2023
Kānehunamoku
what is the season like over there
In a bottle
curved in on the sides
I am fitting just right,
hourglass creature
man with shape
abomination
what is the season like over there
We know white men are the ones who changed it—
gathered atoms in their hands
and cried out the perfect form,
the only beautiful human is one
that reeks of dust bath, sparse,
identifies just right
what is the season like over there
I have always wondered what it’s like
to be the first of something,
an ancestor
or a story,
across these islands,
there are caves
and brackish points
and trees
where the firsts live,
across these islands,
there are places waiting for us
to peel the iris back
and look
I am curious
what season is it over there?
What is that season like?
Do we have one like it here
or has it since expired?
I have been trying
to get everyone to stop for a minute,
and tell me the secrets
that were meant for me,
what gods they’ve hidden in the folds
of my mouth,
how many spirits live in the webbings
of my fingers
and the soles of my feet,
if stomping more will wake them
or singing
or asking
earnestly,
why are you
with me?
When
do I meet you?
I have learned so much
about the beginnings,
Rangi
Papa
Tane
Kurawaka
no one tells me
about the middle part
that time
when all the tīpuna
and the wahi tapu
and the stories happened,
where they went
where they are now
Passing
It is almost a haunting at this point—
a poltergeist
that I’ve managed to squeeze
into my chest,
makes itself known when I jump
in my sleep
or in one of my most recent ticks
Toss
toss
toss
shake
shake
shake
I’m quick with it,
my head twitching
like a hummingbird,
afraid someone can see through
all the layers of black
how mountain I’ve trained my face to look,
see softness
that is not typically in other men,
machete jaw, daisy face
thighs that tell you
I am unmistakably and unquestioningly
of the Pacific
There is a privilege in passing,
one that I sometimes enjoy
and am always on the verge
of having taken away
Anxious hands
cracked and dry
littered with hangnails and flowers
wondering where I went wrong,
two roads diverged
in the ngahere
and I go for the one that falls into the sea
Because that is the trans journey,
always playing house on a cliff
trying out different roles
while keeping the whare from collapsing
and it’s funny
cause I sometimes still see myself
as not the same as the rest,
some unique kind of other
can’t quite squeeze into the universal
cause
one time I had this feeling
and then I followed this feeling
except the feeling was an ancestor
and ancestor should actually be in plural
which is to say
tīpuna
choir
demonstration
but all in my ears and no one else’s,
like
the miles between choice
and chosen
This was destiny
And every time I’ve tried otherwise
I have paid dearly,
in ache
pain
loss
Like I said—
this is just different for me
Built-in
hardwire
born with the instructions
in my blood stream
Natalie Wood
17 July – 11 September 2023
Product Recall
Natalie Wood is a postgraduate Anthropology student at the University of Auckland. Her research uses walking as a cultural access point toward an understanding of how neoliberal narratives and the experience of austerity are performed, expressed and embodied – or contested by the body. Her forthcoming book – an inquiry into the temporality of shopping – asks what hope we might have of reimagining shopping in an alternative future.
Steeped in NZ Gothic style, her DIY audio play intends to explore these theoretical ideas through affective experience. That is, by inviting participants to reimagine the hardware store as a site of play.
To participate, stream or download the play onto your mobile device. This is an exercise to be done in pairs, so bring your companion to your nearest hardware store (the bigger the better), and through individual headphones (noise cancelling is best) you should each press start standing outside of the entrance to the shop.
1) Download this audio onto your phone
2) With your companion and headphones to your nearest large hardware store
3) Standing anywhere outside of the entrance, put your phone on silent
4) Press play and await your next instruction
Credits
released January 15, 2024
sound – Matt Kofoed
archival audio – archives NZ
product recall song – Matt Kofoed
Dilohana Lekamge
29 May – 24 July 2023
A Glance at Intercultural Collectivism in Aotearoa
Aotearoa has a long history of racial segregation, and cultural clustering is one of the stark reminders of this issue. Residential segregation in Tāmaki Makaurau continually increases with the rising house prices and has many consequences; one of which being people from specific geographical regions in the world tend to live in areas largely occupied by those same cultural groups. Cultural differences to some seem like a barrier to find common ground, and often gets in the way of creating sympathy for one another’s experiences. To others, however, difference offers an opportunity to find commonalities in experiences, building relationships that can be utilised to serve common interests.
Throughout this residency I spoke to collectives that have members from varied cultural backgrounds. I aimed to investigate how these groups come together to produce their work and serve the kaupapa that they have collectively agreed is worthy of service, given their divergent backgrounds.The collectives that I spoke to for this research all function in different ways—they have various motives and aims for their work.
Collectives often begin as in-good-faith ventures, a group of colleagues or friends with a shared pursuit or interest that forms a bond, in order to generate an output that stems from this focal point. For instance, Āhua’s mission in “decolonising our creative futures” has been paramount since their formation. Sonya Milford, the Founder and Design Director of Āhua, explains the collective and challenges what creativity looks like, who it is for, and who gets to participate in it. She explains that art in Aotearoa’s creative industry has been created with Eurocentric ideals in mind and other communities have not had the opportunity to create the art scene.
Āhua come together to combat these foundations and create a more diverse pathway for our creative industries going forward. Milford wanted to highlight the excellence in the QTBIPOC community that she was aware of, desiring the creation of a network that would allow for that excellence to be seen more widely. The collective has its core members and as projects come up they reach out to artists to get involved, using the structure of the collective to provide opportunities for QTBIPOC and takatāpui artists. Creating as many opportunities as possible for the creatives in their communities builds space for individuals to explore their tuakiritanga, an encapsulation of all that makes up their person.
Āhua approaches their mission in a multifaceted manner: curating exhibitions, forming an online magazine, and promoting events, essays and podcasts that support the collective’s kaupapa. One of their more recent exhibitions was Reframing Karakia (2022) at Studio One Toi Tū. Reframing Karakia aimed to approach karakia without the connection to religion that was imposed upon the form through colonisation, and explore how it can be utilised for QTBIPOC community. The exhibition included artwork by Atarangi Anderson, Mariadelle Abbey Gamit, Marc Conaco, Taylor Te Atarua, Hazel Zishun, Tommie Love, Kauri Waihoea, Sara Moana, and Sonya Milford. Each artist contributed work from their own practice and navigated themes of one’s personal relationship to their own identity.
For the exhibition, Milford also commissioned the singer-songwriter Em Walker AKA Theia AKA Te Kaahu (Waikato-Tainui, Ngaati Tiipa) to compose a karakia for the collective and this exhibition. Walker’s karakia describes the members of the collective who originate from the four winds; it explores how taiwi have access to their ancestral homes and knowledge. As described by Sam Bailey (Ngāti Porou, Ngāti Huarere), one of the collective’s members, the act of presenting this karakia in Te Reo Māori was a gesture of manaakitanga, showcasing the act of hosting tauiwi as manuhiri on these lands. In having this karakia written in Te Reo, Āhua acknowledged the cultural plurality of the collective and its kaupapa by first noting mana whenua and the land that we stand on as theirs. Those who are tauiwi are manuhiri, guests to this place, who in the process of approaching decolonisation, should firstly recognise the colonisation of the place that we all now reside. This is the lens through which our multiculturalism should be understood.
As Bailey acknowledges, the goal of collectivism is safety, and coming together should result in protection, which is a shared responsibility. The goal is the shared collective vision, as opposed to an individual understanding of personal desire and requirement. Bailey describes their process in working together as iterative and collective, describing the need for adjustments to be made if members feel isolated while participating in the group.
This sense of community extends to the music industry, where many artists of minority background have to face similar issues regarding a lack of appreciation for diverse voices and artists. The Eastern Sound Collective is one collective that came together in response to this desire to see more Asian musicians in Aotearoa’s music industry and to connect with more Asian artists. Nadia Freeman, the collective’s founding member, describes feeling a disconnect from her cultural community, as pursuing art is not an encouraged pathway in many Asian households and therefore people, like Freeman, become an outlier in pursuing a creative practice. The collective granted a way through which Freeman could find Asian Aotearoa musicians, like herself, and instead form a community around this shared interest. This quality is what many of the members find most valuable about the network.
The collective started in 2020, when Freeman started to build connections by reaching out to artists she had come across through media, through Facebook groups, and eventually word-of-mouth. Initially, the group only succeeded in recruiting South Asian members, but after deliberations, they wanted to expand their reach. The barriers that they faced as musicians of South Asian descent, were likely to be issues that other Asian musicians would also have to face. As a result, they made extra efforts to reach out to musicians of other Asian backgrounds. Incrementally the group meets to discuss the long and short term goals of the collective, how it functions and how to develop its overall structure. Since it is a relatively young collective, only beginning in 2020, they are regularly readjusting their key principles, aims, and processes, to ensure that the group is serving the interests of its members.
The collective have organised several gigs in the past which helped with the promotion of their artists and the group itself, however, their main focus is to offer support to their fellow members. The collective is often approached by those who are seeking culturally traditional music, which most of the musicians in the collective do not make. Those inquiries are not genuinely interested in the music that their artists are making, nor are they looking to have a more diverse lineup, but rather to include an exoticised Asian music that conveniently disregards the contemporary musical styles that many of these artists practice. This kind of pigeonholing is an example of the prejudice that the collective aims to extinguish, in that showing the variation of genre within the collective showcases that musicians of Asian descent aren’t only interested in playing music that is traditional to their ancestral homes.
Eastern Sound Collective’s goal to have wider and better acknowledgement of Asian Aotearoa musicians was furthered with their establishment of the podcast Eastern Sound Stories, which interviews numerous musicians, like jazz musician and double-bassist Umar Zakaria, hip-hop artist Scalper AKA Nadeem Shafi, and singer and song-writer Alisa Xayalith, from The Naked and Famous. The series is produced by the collective in conjunction with Radio Active.FM, with members of the group acting as producers and presenters. It was made with the support of funding from NZ On Air Music, and in 2023 won the NZ On Air Outstanding Music Journalism award at the Taite Music Prize.
After meetings they sometimes go to their favourite food spots and share together that way, or go to gigs together to support their fellow members and other Asian musicians playing in Te Whanganui-a-Tara. One collective member, Arindam Sen, describes the group as “A support network. A network of knowledge, contacts, and experiences which can help cross-fertilize…as a collective we can go out and seek information with a little bit more power, rather than as individuals.”
The Killing is another collective of artists, in this case visual artists, who came together to form a sense of community, but in a more closely bound manner. The least formal of the collectives that I spoke to, The Killing is a group of close friends who all recently graduated from Elam, who want to promote collectivism in an art world which they have often found to be an isolating realm. This friendship is the main pillar of this collective and what drives them to keep working together. They describe themselves as a “6-celled body” made up of the artists Daniella Bay, Minsoh Choi, p. A, Meleseini Faleafa, Tristan Bloemstein, and Venus Blacklaws. Describing themselves as a family, Choi states “We would rather save our friendship and our family if the collective goes sideways”.
Their artwork has been shown at Artspace Aotearoa, Papakura Art Gallery and RMIT Gallery in Melbourne, and on all of these occasions, they conceptualise the work as a group and make the artwork together—sometimes crowding their flats with fabric and stuffing for large scale plushies. There are elements of their individual styles in the work, but with the scale that they are working at, their installations become a bold, brightly coloured, and immersive experience, with moments to zoom in on these different features. As they describe it, it’s “preserving our kid-selves.”
Choi and Bay describe the disadvantages that come with working as an individual in the arts, especially when coming from a minority background. In funding applications, proposals, artist bio’s and descriptions of work, it is an expectation, and often a requirement, to outline one’s otherness and assign it to their artwork. As they explain, this can be a restrictive and reductive approach to an individual’s practice, which contains as many multitudes as the individual themselves. The power of working in a collective means that those categories are not as distinctly underlined. Their work does not have to be assigned to any particular identifiers, other than that of being work created by all of them together. As Faleafa describes, “collectivism is inherent in our cultures. It’s passed down from our ancestors. They all worked together—there was never an individualistic pursuit.”
In living in Aotearoa we must acknowledge that the land we live on influences our relationship with each other and our multiculturalism. If we are to attempt to work together with different cultural backgrounds and world views, there is one main unifying factor, which is this place upon which we work together. Sam Bailey, from Āhua, encourages tauiwi to “participate in the indigenous culture in the motu that you’re in [as this] will help you connect to your own culture because you have to be a participant of sharing to then consider how you might share”. Groups like Asians Supporting Tino Rangatiratanga have come together with their status as manuhiri at the very forefront of their work, stating that they “are a group of tauiwi from various Asian backgrounds who support tino rangatiratanga and mana motuhake for the Indigenous people of Aotearoa.” They lead workshops so that members of Asian communities can understand Te Tiriti and their responsibility in taking part in adhering to its principles. Group members are present at Māori-led movements, protests, initiatives and campaigns, standing in solidarity with mana whenua.
The collective has three chapters across Te Whanganui-a-Tara, Tāmaki Makaurau, and Ōtepoti, and separately also work on building relationships with other Asian activists and providing support to them. In their work they have allowed forTe Tiriti to be more accessible to those within our population who don’t have English or Te Reo Māori as their first languages, which ultimately offers an avenue through which manuhiri communities can better understand the cultural context of their new home and better communicate with its history, cultural complexities and its first people. Asians Supporting Tino Rangatiratanga fights cultural separatism and offers a sharing of knowledge for the betterment and wider understanding of how this country should function in order to serve tangata whenua and consequently, the greater multicultural population of Aotearoa.
Collectivism provides support and reassurance. It gives us the opportunity to hear other perspectives that as an individual, we might not have otherwise considered or imagined. This can help catch potential errors, expand the breadth of a project and improve our ability to empathise. Though these are all idealised notions, it does not diminish our responsibility to keep these goals in mind, especially when working in an intercultural context and towards greater social cohesion. It turns away from individuality and considers a shared kaupapa that serves one larger purpose which feeds a longing that each individual has, whether it be for community, representation, activism, or a combination of all three. For all of these collectives, there is a process of continuous reflection and restructure which gives each group the opportunity to evolve their formations and adapt to the needs of its members and the contexts that they work within.
To work collectively requires humility, active communication and open-mindedness that allows for the greater objectives to be met and a sense of trust and hospitality within a community to flourish. Many of the collectives I spoke to spoke about the protection, care, and power in numbers that their group offers them. Belonging to something offers a sense of companionship and connection that working solely as an individual cannot offer. Within the social context that is Aoteroa, with its long histories of colonisation, racial intolerance, bigotry and separatism, it is no surprise to those who have felt the weight of these injustices that they seek togetherness with others who can empathise with them. In working together to push against these formed barriers one can find more fruitful and comforting ways to traverse these social structures. As Meleseini Faleafa from The Killing stated “Collective work needs to be more common because it’s so underrated. There is so much juice in it.”
Kaoru Kodma / 2021
Kaoru Kodama
9 Feb- 20 March 2021
Kaoru Kodama is in the final week of their RM Archive Residency. Here are some of Kaoru’s thoughts from the residency:
Throughout the last six weeks, I’ve been thinking about sharing existing artworks concerning the legacies of nuclear weapons testing on the Pacific. I hoped to make some kind of directory or a catalogue of the artworks, a type of resource that I wish I had for learning about this topic; multiple works in one place, with a particular focus on the Pacific.
One day I decided to take a walk to generate some ideas and headed to the VAANA Peace Mural at the corner of K Rd and Ponsonby Rd. Given my proposed topic for the residency, I felt curious to visit the local site associated with the history of nuclear weapons testing.
As I walked through K Rd, I kept making up associations between Pacific nuclear history and the buildings, signage, etc. that I saw along the way.
I tried to record these random associations into a documented walk, in which I introduce the artworks about nuclear weapons testing.
The end result will be available both in print and online. I’m looking forward to sharing it soon.
Regional histories of contemporary Oceania are highly contested. Through continuous interference of world powers, the region has been shaped into a stage of ongoing geopolitical struggles.
Nuclear weapons testing is one aspect of this history. The testing’s legacies enable contemporary militarisation of Oceania while its repercussions shape today’s lived experiences. Deliberate erasures obscure the nuclear history itself; state-led campaigns that tried to undermine dangers of nuclear fallout; witnesses of the tests sworn to secrecy by the state; official documentations dismissing individual experiences. Nuclear activities also exacerbate the region’s environmental desecration, including loss of places, people and the relationships that connect them.
The residency aims to contribute to the RM Archive a catalogue of audiovisual works as an act of reversing these erasures and questioning the mediations of these histories. Who is still here, telling their stories? Who is telling others’ stories? What and where are the stories?
Kaoru’s current research at AUT explores how contemporary audiovisual works engage in nuclear disarmament and demilitarisation of Oceania.
Sticker design copyright (1984) to Ursula Kortner, for the West Auckland Peace Group. Produced by the New Zealand Nuclear-Free Peacemaking Association
Spit/e Collective / 2020
Spit/e Collective
15 June – 24 July 2020
We are a group of theorists and writers dedicated to queer, feminist, abolitionist, antiracist, and anticolonial demands. In spite of the debilitating demand to produce dry content in late capitalism, we create our own platforms for the playful and reckless creation of knowledge. Spit/e is a split name because our identities are plural. We’re spit because universities make you dehydrated. “Critical distance” suffocates the body, that wet thing that makes you specific and passionate and desiring change. Dry work is extractive, transactional; wet work is transformative. We’re spite too because anger at the world is both information about what to change and motivation to try. Good work is done with spite for and in spite of dry political machines. (Don’t f with our friends, we’ll spit in your face.)
In RM’s archive room we are working on different poetic/productive/immediate ways to theorise or work through the experience of having a “wet encounter” with a political text or idea. A wet encounter creates a rupture in the world as it was. Because of this, wet encounters in reading provoke readers to change in radical ways. The word ‘wet’ is here to emphasise the intimacy of this kind of encounter: a wet encounter reaches you as a body, in fluid relation that defies dry boundaries (such as the supposed distance between reader and writer, the potential disconnectedness of a dry page). A wet encounter is profoundly political because it forces you to rethink your being-in-the-world.
Tardigrade World / 2020
9 Feb – 20 March 2020
Tardigrade World
Waste Archive by Tardigrade World
What we do
We are Tardigrade World, a collective that seeks to establish an experimental media channel called WASTE ARCHIVE aiming to gather research and distribute art and culture archives concerning sustainability relevant to our immediate community. There is a shortage of media archives directed towards Aucklanders that delivers such information in a concentrated and accessible manner. We aim to increase awareness towards critical social issues with our media channel by finding a place for it within Auckland city’s culture and art scene.
The media channel includes podcast/video, online articles, physical journals. The content is about what is happening in the sustainable community in Auckland, matters happening globally, and how the general population could get access to and benefit from them. We hope this will also help the sustainability sector make a better social and environmental impact in general, as well as making the art sector becomes more resilient.
Join us
If you are creatives, activists, community groups, or anyone who have interests or work on the same topic, we would love to know your ideas and reflections and seek collaboration with, contact us at:
https://www.facebook.com/tardigrade.world/
Amber French / 2019
Amber French
From Sept 9 – Nov 29 2019 Amber was the RM Archive Resident
making a mess.
little tentacles find, antennae fronds.
‘fronds’ little girl bitter and
—– —– from laying out
horizontal to on a vertical
plane flapping
falling, streaming,
small, smile, fine, tip, small,
documentation, and, I. flurry of
moves and press light
‘specific … words’ are
okay usibil-
small document
tation
and press lightly
‘specific —– word
s’ are okay.
I said: being open
and he said:
well, that’s not
really enough so
I had to get
from the very
back of the rooms
out of the
building into the
street tears falling
I shouldn’t stay I look down
at here until late my legs
and I.
see a boy’s
The small cockro-
legs and the small
ache and its small
electrical tape
small babies which I find at
rm scatter confusedly gallery doesn’t
have when I turn on
everything light grip very
the light the —– —–
Having forgotten
kitchenette. my keys to the
roller door today having
forgotten my
my whole pencil
case
Huni Mancini / 2019
Huni Mancini
From March 4-17 May 2019, Huni was the RM Archive Resident.
She produced a publication, Satellite, available on our Texts page.
reading room
Over the next twelve weeks RM Archive will host reading room, a residency project engaging with three Karangahape Road reading rooms located at RM Gallery, Samoa House Library and Artspace Aotearoa. This project responds to each location with a focus on collections, communities and the use of space to consider the transformative potential of community repositories in the wake of a current crisis in tertiary arts education.
Reading rooms are a threshold to collections held within an archival institution. They aid the discovery of material and serve as a quiet space where one can read and study. Caswell et al. (2018) proposed the concept of ‘representational belonging’ to denote the ways in which community archives can empower people who have been marginalised by mainstream media and memory institutions, to have the autonomy and authority to establish, enact, and reflect on their presence in ways that are complex, meaningful, substantive, and positive to them in a variety of symbolic contexts.[1]
In June 2018 The University of Auckland announced the closure of three creative arts libraries, including the Fine Arts Library, Architecture and Planning Library, and Music Library, despite opposition from students, faculty and the wider public. The University’s decision signals a move away from public to private information spaces, and the precarity of libraries in the face of wider political and economic forces.
This project asks how the document is sufficient in representing histories where there is no longer a thread of continuity, but rather a fracture, a discontinuity – the mark of which is obliteration, erasure and amnesia.[2] Western information professions espouse the impulse to record, which is activated daily through an infrastructure of standards and restrictions. Within this paradigm however the cultural practices of peoples to whom much of this material originates are often left out of the picture. Is there more to connect us with our histories than the document alone?
Included in this conversation is the Tongan spatiotemporal concept and practices of tā-vā. Tā-vā is the symmetrical marking of time (tā) in space (vā), and this marking is understood to be arranged differently within and across cultures.[3] Sitiveni Halapua (2000) identified the historical association between vā and the Tongan concept of hala (historical connection). Halapua argued that hala and vā are inseparable, and that “hala is the connection in space, vā.”[4] Such embodied concepts of time and space are useful to a discussion of how access to information can instill a sense of belonging.
Kaupapa
The kaupapa or methodology for this project draws on talanoa, a Tongan research practice which is an extension of the Pasifika practice of community-based, face-to-face knowledge sharing. Defined as the Pasifika way of open and informal discussion, the aim of talanoa is to challenge the siloing of knowledge and resist rigid hegemonic control.[5]
A number of talanoa will take place at all three Karangahape Road reading rooms, with one general session to be held at the RM archive. All members of the community are invited to attend the RM Archive talanoa on:
Saturday 27 April 11-2pm
Please email Huni (hunisofia@gmail.com) if you would like to attend or if you have any questions or queries.
A printed publication will be produced at the project’s end and copies of the publication will be donated to all three repositories. Placing them within the RM Archive transforms this project from being ‘evidence of me’ to ‘evidence of us’ – a component of our collective memory.[6]
Bio
Huni Mancini is a Tongan (Niuatoputapu/Mu’a) and Italian (Monti/Grillara) creative and information professional, currently employed at the University of Auckland’s Architecture & Planning Library and Archive of Māori and Pacific Sound, and previously the Fine Arts Library (2018-2019). She is completing a PGDip in Information Studies through Victoria University and graduated with an MA in Media Studies in 2018, for which she completed her research thesis, Mapping new terrain: self-determined Indigenous app and game development. She exhibited in New Perspectives with Simon Denny (Artspace, 2016), Dark Objects (The Dowse, 2017). Her work has appeared in BackStory (NZ), Diaspora Drama (London), and Lieu (Melbourne).
[1] Caswell, M.; Gabiola, J.; Zavala, J.; Brilmyer, G.; Cifor, M. (2018). “Imagining transformative spaces: the personal-political sites of community archives.” Archival Science, 2018, 18(1). p.76.
[2] Mereweather, C. (2006). The Archive (London: Whitechapel; Cambridge: MIT Press). p.12.
[3] Ka’ili, T.O. (2017). Marking Indigeneity: The Tongan Art of Sociospatial Relations. (Tucson: University of Arizona Press). p.34.
[4] Halapua, S. (2000). Meaning in Unity-Building: A Holistic Talanoa Perspective. (Korolevu, Fiji: Pacific Islands Development Program).
[5] Fairbairn-Dunlop, P. (2014). Talanoa: building a Pasifika research culture. (Auckland: Dunmore). p.16.
[6] McKemmish, S. (2005). Archives: Recordkeeping in Society (Wagga Wagga: Charles Sturt University). p.13.