A Hangi in Belgium

I thought I could be tough on what was 'good enough' with this documentary-style series capturing the Hangi. But I'm finding that I want to include almost everything because all the photographs seem important to the story.

I realised that it's not just about cooking food in the ground, it's about the community that forms as people work together. And it was about the people who came and went during the process - it was kind of tidal, with different folk appearing at different stages.

But most of all, it was about the people who worked on it - those on a tour who saw help was needed and climbed into it with their experience from 'back home in NZ', with their strength, despite wearing boat shoes or white sneakers.

In the end it was all about the feeling surrounding the process ... it was quite staggeringly beautiful.

At the moment, I'm not sure one photograph captures it all. It's a story to be told with many photographs.

Ngāti Rānana, on Flanders Fields, Belgium

 

Ngāti Rānana London Māori Club aims to provide New Zealanders residing in the United Kingdom and others interested in Māori culture an environment to teach, learn and participate in Māori culture.

The three guiding principles of Ngāti Rānana are whanaungatanga (togetherness), manaakitanga (looking after one another/hospitality) and kōtahitanga (unity).

Source: the Ngāti Rānana website.

These guys were in Mesen/Messines this weekend and they touched the hearts of everyone who saw them perform.

 

Ralph Hotere, New Zealand Artist

He was very gentle but held strong views and was extremely inquisitive and interested in many things.

Jeanne Macaskill, artist, describing Ralph Hotere

I think, sometimes, we can grow lacking appropriate role models.  We assume we fit the world wrong and that we carry the burden to change.  But it's untrue.  I think it is more that the institutions that define and model 'correct' behaviour often have it all wrong.

Rather than exploring the full range of what it is to be human, we are shaped so as to fit the structure already in place.

I wish someone had told that it was possible to be gentle and hold strong views.  That one didn't cancel out all possibility of the other.  Strong views do not a monster make. 

The word most used in describing Ralph is the word generous.  That is how friends and colleagues remembered him and yet, he was a man of strong political views ... a man who believed 'art and politics are not separate things, because life does not allow them to be.'

He was described as a warrior artist.  His greatest works embraced great causes.  He used elegance, power, and beauty.  He was a builder of bridges between people.  These are just a handful of the things I've read about Ralph Hotere.

Source: Mirata Mita's documentary series at the end of this post

New Zealand poet Cilla McQueen, one of Hotere's 3 wives wrote 3 beautiful fragments on the Listener magazine's memorial page to Ralph after his death in 2013.  She wrote of time spent in Avignon as a family, 'We knew these were precious days, of dappled sunlight, warm earth, lavender, grapes, melons, rosé wine. I wrote because a camera was not enough.'

He was a talented artist, a stunningly generous man who gave away more then half of his art - gifts to friends, a silent man who believed that 'there are very few things I can say about my work that are better than saying nothing', a man who understood 'precious days' ... a man I don't want to forget because he shows that it's okay to be everything, to own that character that makes us so uniquely ourselves.

Eleanor Catton, The Luminaries, Brussels

Last night was one of those extraordinary nights spent with good people while doing marvelous things.

I had wandered over to Brussels in time to meet Lynette after work.  We met up with New Zealand artist, Wendy Leach and together we walked to Irma's house, where New Zealand photographer, Jacque Gilbert, was arriving fresh from her Amsterdam world.

I cannot begin to describe how lovely it was to find myself sitting there with these women, glasses of wine in hand, food on the table ... just talking.  It was one of those magical moments you experience sometimes, one of those ones where you think about pinching yourself to see if it's real.

But that was only the beginning.  We had come together because we were attending a literary event at the bookshop called Passa Porta.  I had never heard of it before last night but their event was impossible to resist.  Lynette had written, telling us all that she had booked tickets to an event with Eleanor Catton.  The writer who convincingly won the Man Booker Prize in 2013 with her book The Luminaries.  Annelies Verbeke, a Flemish writer, was to interview Eleanor.

We arrived at the shop and the room was already quite full.  I'm sure there were more than 100 people there. And then it began and honestly, sometimes I was close to the point of tears.  Before photography, writing was my great big passion.  I still write but somehow it slipped into the background as photography strode to the forefront in my life.

Last night, there I was, listening to Eleanor and Annelies talk while delighting in the way she was willing to kind of crack open her novel ... revealing her motivations, ideas, goals, and more.

I loved her 832 page novel, The Luminaries, for so many reasons.  It was set in New Zealand but more than that, on the west coast of the South Island in a town I've loved since I was a teenager.  My cousins came from Hokitika. It was a small town with a wild savage beauty back then.  The Tasman Sea still comes roaring across from Australia crashing in on the shore there.  And a few miles inland you can see the powerful outline of the Southern Alps rising up, appearing to trap you between the wild coast and the mountains.

I returned to Hokitika in 2012 and it had changed, so much.  So little, and so much.  The road through the alps to the east coast is a highway these days ... a rugged New Zealand highway but still, simpler to cross than it was back in 1866.  The year Eleanor Catton's novel opens ... goldrush days in that wild place.

She read the opening scene to us before Annelies began with her questions.  The audience became completely silent.  The room was still as she read.  Annelies asked some superb questions and Eleanor answered them, fully, completely.  To the point where I will reread the book because I understand how she intended we use the astrological information.  And while she was clear on the fact that it's not important to understanding the story, it does add another layer or ten to the complexity of the story.

There was a question time and an invitation to stay for the book signing.  New Zealand wine was handed out, courtesy of the New Zealand Embassy.

I'm not really a creature who wants my books signed by authors.  BUT I did want to talk with Eleanor, to tell her how much I had enjoyed both the book and the evening.

I started my university degree in 1998 because I needed to earn two papers before I could apply for Bill Manhire's creative writing course ... way back then.  I lost my way, stayed on at university and never did apply for the course.

Listening to Eleanor brought everything back.  Those days on Stewart Island, a writing workshop with Patricia Grace.  The Otago University's summer writing schools.  Those days of writing.  And so I bought a second copy of the book and waited my turn in the queue.  Somehow, despite the intensity of the interview she had just come through, Eleanor made time to really talk with every person who approached her. 

It turned out that we were wearing the same greenstone necklace.  The same hook.  I explained I had needed some of 'home' to bring back to Europe, to wear close to me, and that it came from a place just along the road from Hokitika. 

Today I wrote, over on Facebook,  that I found Eleanor Catton to be intelligent, gracious, patient, humble ... and you know, everything good.  I didn't exaggerate. If you get the chance to hear her speak, I recommend you do it.

Lynette (on the left in the photograph below), the woman who made it all possible because I would have missed this without her, gave me her camera and I took a series of photographs. 

But you see ...?


Albatross, Dunedin

Sometimes, the temptation to play with photographs ... as was done in the darkroom, is too much and so I play.  But I resisted the polaroid frame and opted for a simple edge.  And stuff ...

Back home in New Zealand, we had Albatross circling one day, down there at the end of the Otago Peninsula.  I adore them.  For me, it feels a bit like seeing God go by, in that they are these enormous graceful birds, quite unlike any other I know.

My Beautiful Katie-Niece and A Piece of Her Art

My niece, Katie, recently sent me a copy of her end of year artwork.  It's a delicately beautiful static image.  She received 3 excellences for this work but even if she hadn't, I'm so proud of her talent.

And although I adore her, truly, madly, deeply ... she melted my heart some more when she wrote that I was represented by an object there too, as one of the people she loves.

She was the littlest creature when I left New Zealand and when I went home, I discovered both her and her sister are becoming the loveliest young women.

Oh yes ... I'm so proud of these girls.

Whispers From My World ...

Claire mailed me a link to a beautiful video clip from home, see below ...writing, 'hope you don't get too homesick!'  I did but I loved it so much that a little bit of homesick really doesn't matter.

Meanwhile I've had the pleasure of spending the last couple of days in the company of Lynette - one of the loveliest kiwi soul's I know.  We were up at 6.30am two mornings in a row, taking Miss 9 to school because Jess was fighting with the nastiest kind dental abscess pain and Lynette thought it would be fun to come wandering.  Remember we're mid-winter here in Belgium. 

Jessie's antibiotics have kicked in now and it's Saturday today.  A 9am wake-up was so welcome this morning.

And I'm rapt with the small pile of new shells here on my desk, fresh from one of the exquisite beaches in Nelson, NZ, sand still clinging to some.  I'm a shell and stone-gatherer.  My desk bears witness to this.  Included in her bag of New Zealand goodness Lynette also bought Miss 9 a Magpie soft toy, complete with the really special call of the New Zealand magpie.

It has a lovely few days of 'home' ... and I'm still listening to Fran Kora.  A most excellent way to begin a day.

The Waters of Greenstone from Nathan Kaso on Vimeo.

 

Little Bushman, Peaceful Man - with the NZ Symphony Orchestra.

"Though some, in darkness of heart, seeing their land ravished, might wish to take arms and kill the aggressors, I say it must not be. Let not the Pakehas think to succeed by reason of their guns ... I want not war, but they do. The flashes of their guns have singed our eyelashes, and yet they say they do not want war ... The government come not hither to reason, but go to out-of-the-way places. They work secretly, but I speak in public so that all may hear, " Te Whiti-o-Rongomai III told his people in March 1880.

You can read more of the man who was rumoured to have influenced Ghandi in his peaceful resistance.  Tim Finn and the Herbs sang about Te Whiti too.

Regarding the music clip at the end of this post,  Mark Bell asks the question of Little Bushman, regarding the 2009 collaboration between Little Bushman, composer/arranger Psathas and the NZ Symphony Orchestra – did he actually manage to enjoy the experience given the enormity and pressure of such an undertaking?

His reply, over on Mark's interview, made me laugh.

I am loving all this digging around and finding New Zealand music and movies I've missed.

Writing, Football, and Photography

Raf came to dinner last night, asking if he might use my camera flash while he was over.  He was curious about the process of using the master/slave set-up on his camera. Neither of us had attempted it before and it was the best fun I had had in a while.  More to follow as I experiment with that in the months ahead as it turns out the Gert's Metz flash is able to make a wireless connection with my Canon flash. 

The photograph following was taken when Raf put down his beautiful Canon EOS-1Ds Mark III, with its battery pack attached and picked up the smaller Canon EOS 550D, laughing over how to hold it in his big hands.  I liked how it looked and took a series of images with my beloved Canon EOS 5D MkII.

It was a lovely evening.  Thank you, Raf, for opening the door into this new way of working with light.

Pa Boys, a New Zealand Movie by Himiona Grace

There's a new New Zealand movie due out this February and I want to see it.  I found the song below and loved it. The movie is The Pa Boys.

I wandered off and discovered this interview with the man behind it all, Himiona Grace - ‎director, writer, photographer and musician too. 

I desperately want to see it but I guess I'm waiting until it comes out on DVD. 

Listening to Himiona's story unfold brought back memories of a weekend spent at a writing workshop on Stewart Island with Himiona's mother, one of New Zealand's best writers, Patricia Grace.  And then he's married to New Zealand writer Briar Grace-Smith.  Someone I missed the arrival of by virtue of losing track of New Zealand's arts scene.  He loved the anonimity of this ... he was either Patricia Grace's son or Briar Grace-Smith's husband.  Meanwhile, he's quietly got on and created something marvelous.  Or so it seems.

The Daily Photo Challenge ...

The element of 'challenge' continues to dominate as I work at finding a photograph for every day of this year however my lovely friend and I are delighting as our stories and images roll out over days.

Today's image began as a shot of the beautiful dish with the delicate fern leaf imprint inside.  The one that was gifted to me by the truly special New Zealand family I had the pleasure of photographing when I was home.  But as I worked at composition and struggled with light ... because yes, I did leave it until the last moment, it soon became clear that it was more about the bracelets and necklace I wear everyday.  They nestle there in the dish over-night.

The jade necklace was carved by Jayme Anderson, a talented New Zealand artist and jade carver. I was told that the jade is Marsden Jade and that delighted me.  Hokitika and the wild west coast stole my heart way back when I was teenager.

A little from Jayme's business card , 'Jayme's love for jade and carving began in 1996, the first year of his Diploma of Visual Art and Design.  He graduated in 1998.

Later it tells me that, 'From his 10 acre lifestyle block at Marsden, home of the flower jade, he travels internationally and pushes the boundaries in techniques and stone limitations. His innovative work is in the Spiritwrestler Gallery in Canada and private collections in Canada, the U.S. and the U.K...

I feel extraordinarily fortunate to have a piece of his work.  It was well worth the horrific journey through my old nemesis ... the Homer Tunnel.  That story is here.

 

A Little Bit of Happy

We left New Zealand, a 1am Singapore Airlines flight, on this day a year ago today.

The days leading up to leaving were full of the things I love best.  Solitary early morning walks, the beach, good people, and sunshine at Christmas.

The clothes- line pictured is loaded down with swimsuits after a swim in the river at Cooks Beach.  And the little hut at the end reminds me of the much-hated longdrop toilets that occasionally featured in my  childhood memories.  This was was decommissioned and could therefore be  defined as picturesque.

It's a blue-sky 5.2 celsius day in Antwerp as I write this.  It reads colder than it feels.  I have the bedroom window open and we've already been out for a short walk.  Coats and scarves were involved but we still haven't even had many serious frosts.  There was blossom out there.  And there was that one evening of snow that didn't settle a while ago.

Gert was cautioning me, explaining that the Belgian winter kicks in in January and February.  Last winter was simply brutal and long.  December through into June, more or less.

Anyway, from the backyard of a New Zealand crib (South Island) or bach (North Island), holiday home (rest of the world) ... a little bit of simply happy.

The People's Wine, Pinot Noir, New Zealand

I was talking to Julie tonight... she's back home in New Zealand these days, after months spent  wandering the world.  I was reminiscing about a red wine I had enjoyed while I was home.

I remembered there was a truck on the wine label, laughing over the fact that I don't think I ever paid full price for a bottle of The People's Wine - that pinot noir.  I found them on special where ever we wandered.  And, of course, I took that to be a divine sign to drink more because they were retailing for $22nz normally.

There is a photograph, of course ...

Saturday Morning

I don't know how we keep meeting these people that become important to us. Will it ever stop? Are we looking for them or were they always there under a current and we just stepped in the creek at the right time.

Amy Sharp, extract from, We will meet in a flower shop or on a corner in the rain and then later I'll tell you everything.

I'm awake before anyone else, on this Saturday morning in Belgium, and I have my laptop here with me downstairs.  It's resting on a tower of toilet paper, bought on special deal yesterday. I must take them upstairs but for now ... a useful laptop table.

The Tasmanian arrived last night.  Jobe is a lovely bloke who visits periodically, when he's not partying his way through Europe.  I've told him, more than a few times, he must put together some kind of book.  He's much-loved where ever he goes and the photographs of him hanging out with happy strangers in Poland and London and every place else, make me smile.

It's too cold and the pollution hangs heavy outside otherwise I would be off and wandering this morning. Like I did early one morning, back at Cooks Beach, in New Zealand.

Manuka Flower, New Zealand

When I lived in New Zealand I used to love getting up with the sun sometimes, wandering a while with my dog and my camera.  Last year, those days spent at Cooks Beach on the Coromandel Peninsula, were painfully exquisite.

It was something else to return with eyes hungry for home.  I saw ordinary everyday plants like the flax bush or the manuka flower in an entirely different way.  It was as if I was celebrating the familiar and elevating it to the point of extraordinary by virtue of not having experienced 'everyday and familiar' for 8 years or more.

I needed longer, more time to soak up the beauty I saw there. 

The Jandal of Joy ...

When I changed my jandals for something more sturdy the plump and middle- aged dog was seized with a puppyish urge. He pounced on a jandal, ran to the lawn with it, tossed it high, pounced again as it landed and shook it to death like a rat. Then he looked at me with both ears cocked and the jandal pinned and I had to smile at his joy. Don't let anyone tell you that beasts don't feel.

Indeed, as I tied my shoe I asked myself when I was last as happy as the dog was now. And the answer was Wednesday.

Joe Bennett, extract from, Happy as a Dog.

This captures something of what my New Zealand life was like sometimes.  Although I only fished off the wharf and out of a lake.  No fly-fishing.  But it was possible to live so much closer to Nature than it is here in Antwerp.  And lately I've found myself attempting to weigh up what means more to me ... the proximity of Genova, Paris, and the rest of Europe, or quiet moments spent wandering on an empty beach with my dog.

I loved the morning hours back then ... dog-walking, or dreaming over breakfast coffee taken on the steps of some house I was living in.  I lived in so many houses between 1985 and 2004.  And all over the South Island of Home.  Each place I lived would be added to my list of places colonised by my soul.  Mosgiel, Dunedin, Cromwell, Blenheim and Te Anau, before circling back to Dunedin.

I had one dog for most of the years of my first marriage.  She and I had so many places we loved.  She knew the joy of jandals although we were happiest with stones or sticks, a tennis ball, a lake, river or beach.  We needed so little to be joy-filled.

Joe Bennett's article set my soul singing a song of longing this morning.  I'm just in from zero celsius and horrific pollution.  Miss 9 and I headed out into it at 7.30am, mostly laughing our way across the city.  We're both very amusing ... we tell ourselves.  We shared Gert's big old woollen gloves.  She wore his left glove, I wore the right glove, we held hands with the hands left bare and were warm enough out there in the mist and the frost. 

She's wearing the cutest little bear hat these days, with long sides that hang down as pockets for her hands but more effectively, those long  bits can be worn as a scarf.  I hand it to her some mornings saying, what did the fox say?'  It's our signal to begin ... she says, 'It's a bear!!!'  but we can't help singing that bloody song.  'Bloody' as explained in this interview with the guys who created it (the language switches to English quite quickly, if you haven't viewed it already).

And here I am, still smiling over the long answerphone message I left for my baby brother over in Perth.  It's Kim's birthday today.  He's surprisingly old, not the 17 year old I still imagine him to be.  There was that surprise of time moving on when I picked up our Nana's ancient birthday book, looking for the year he was born.

I'm nursing a pollution-inspired ache in my head, putting off beginning the work I know I must do.  My Genovese friends are in Brussels today and I'm cooking them dinner tonight.  The skies have been clear since they landed, this morning's mist is already gone ... 10am.  They'll never believe me next time I'm in Genova, when I tell them I'm fleeing the grey grey skies of Antwerp.  They just haven't experienced those skies, and I'm torn between glad and compromised.  They leave on Monday.

But anyway, today's quest ... I would like a small jandal of joy moment like Joe's, like his dog too.  I looked through my this time last year photographs from New Zealand and found this one.  It was taken on a beautiful sun-rising morning while out wandering Cook's Beach in the Coromandel.

New Zealand in Antwerp

It seemed I only needed to roar a little and voila, the words came bubbling up afterwards.

I sent the advert text away before rushing out and across the city on the Thursday school pick-up.  It's a half-day, like Wednesday.  So now I just need to do the bio and locate some photographs of Genova.

But the happy news from today was that Miss 9 and I stopped for lunch at the new New Zealand shop located in the heart of Antwerp.  Pies ... Buzz bars, L&P, and etc.  We love it.

Miss 9 is a fairly radical vegetarian at the moment and so she chose the vegetarian pie which, to me, seemed like a very big waste of 'pie'.  I had the Stoofvlees pie ... a pie filled with the rather divine Flemish beef and beer stew.

L&P was our choice of drink.  Miss 9 because she finds it delicious and me because it takes me straight back to those childhood days where it was always summer.

Fortunately, before devouring too much pie, I remembered to stop for a photograph.  An imperfect image but I was far more interested in eating it.