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Tautai More Than We Know Catalogue

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The More Than We Know exhibition and performance series are among several projects supported by the Tautai Contemporary Pacific Arts Trust in 2013’s Auckland Arts Festival - including Fly Me Up To Where You Are: Te Waharoa. “Participation and audience interaction are characteristics of the work of many contemporary pacific artists,” says Tautai manager Christina Jeffery. “These collaborations and performances will engage audiences, as well as demonstrating the growing impact of contemporary pacific artists in this country’s art environment.”
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A MORE THAN WE KNOW An exhibition by Jeremy Leatinu’u and Kalisolaite ‘Uhila and a season of contemporary Pacific performance curated by Ioana Gordon-Smith
Transcript
Page 1: Tautai More Than We Know Catalogue

A

MORE THAN WE KNOWAn exhibition by Jeremy Leatinu’u and Kalisolaite ‘Uhila and a season of contemporary Pacific performance curated by Ioana Gordon-Smith

Page 2: Tautai More Than We Know Catalogue

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MORE THAN WE KNOWAn exhibition by Jeremy Leatinu’u and Kalisolaite ‘Uhila and a season of contemporary Pacific performance curated by Ioana Gordon-Smith

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Jesus said: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the father except through me.”

John 14:6, The Bible

These are the words printed on a billboard outside the window

of my apartment. I’ve read the sign so many times that I know

this excerpt from the bible by heart. At night, through the walls I

often hear passersby reciting the text. While these are irregular

events occurring days or weeks apart there is continuity

evident in the delivery of the phrase, from person to person.

The booming voice of each speaker suggests a unanimity that

the voice of God would be deep and resonant. In pairs, glass

sliding doors rise vertically to indicate the compartmental

divisions between floors, faces, external balconies and hidden

interior rooms. Thin facades such as these allow for the aural

transmission of developing understandings between unseen

identities to pass in at least in one direction. Deeper into the

hub of the city, the Kenneth Myers Centre on Shortland Street

has its own spatial relationship with sound. A two layer brick

wall shell forms a 56 centimetre barrier intended to cocoon

the interior from outside noise. As a result identities both

inside and outside the walls function without any indication

or knowledge of each other’s movements. Years experiencing

intrusive audio bleed between the interior and exterior walls

of inner city apartments have contributed to my understanding

of just how rare this form of dissociation is in the city. It

was this soundproofing that also intrigued artists Jeremy

Leatinu’u and Kalisolaite ‘Uhila when they were approached

to develop the exhibition More than we know for the Gus

Fisher Gallery. In response to this spatial anomaly; site specific Jeremy Leatinu’u

the other side of speakingRangituhia Hollis

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sound engagements became their foundation concept for the

exhibition. A mutual starting point from where their works

could develop. Put simply Kalisolaite will stand on top of the

building to welcome the audience in the Tongan language,

directing them inside. While in the gallery video documentation

of Jeremy’s physical/sound engagements on the exterior of the

building will be shown. Both artists’ performances are intended

to use sound to breach the seemingly impenetrable walls of

the building. While in previous works sound may have been a

by-product of both of their practices it has yet to have been the

focus. Rather ‘Uhila and Leatinu’u typically choose to take on

board strategies of resistance to inequities or differences – that

either absorb or redirect the energies of a public to whom they

are often outsiders. In practice they allow space for others to

come to terms with such divisions in their own time, without

ever stating these differences overtly. At the time that I write

this it is notable that neither of these artists has spoken in their

work. Jeremy and Kalisolaite are not without language, they are

both a part of a much wider discourse, one that places primacy

on the efficacy of the corporeal.

spatial resonance

It’s early morning at the end of 2012 when ‘Uhila, Leatinu’u

and I arrive at the Kenneth Myers Centre. The plan is to kill

two birds with one stone, we’ll watch both Jeremy film his

performances and Kalisolaite prepare for the performance

that he is to undertake on the opening night. We’re between

the Centre and a neighbouring building waiting at a closed

gate. For us to proceed further permissions have been sought.

University of Auckland security may be watching us through the

overhead cameras. They’re unseen in some centralised control

room elsewhere. We stand behind a University staff member

whose name I forget. The phone call she makes describes our

appearances and our purpose for being there. A number on

the gate is read out and the gate unlocked remotely. Then we

pass through. We are now all inside what Leatinu’u would refer

to as one of the hidden spaces that surround the building.

Both Leatinu’u and ‘Uhila have been here before, scouting the

building for potential sites of interest. This space is one that Ite Uhila

both artists’ performances are intended to use sound to breach the

seemingly impenetrable walls of the

building.

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noise slows and ends. As Leatinu’u walks back out of shot the

performance is over. It seems to me as if the sculpture needed

to be reinvigorated in order to enhance one of the original

aspects intended in the work. When considered along with the

three other works in this series the works appear to be building

a language of engagement by testing the generative potential

of place. In these videos, each scene adds new performative

variations to a growing codec of spatial engagements.

Jeremy Leatinu’u’s The Welcome Project exhibited at Artspace

in 2010 and his East Street performance in 2011 both used written

language to convey meaning. The later of these works was a 12

hour endurance performance promoted by the Auckland Heritage

Festival in conjunction with We Should Practice. In this work

he wrote down – in chalk on the pavement – the details of the

past residents of East Street (off Karangahape Road). Inscribing

the date of their occupancy and the residents name in that

order. The work took place over the space of a Saturday night

and into the next morning. During the late night section of the

performance Jeremy often attracted the attention of drunken

passersby. Remaining silent throughout, kneeling and writing

– he was focused on the monotonous task of documenting

everyone. His lack of response to questions or insults was

enough provocation for some to react violently to what they no

doubt misread as a dismissive demeanour. Fortunately a constant

stream of supporters were present and able to intercede in

these instances. With fights being broken up around him Jeremy

continued on to complete the task. The Welcome Project 2010 in

itself was another seemingly innocuous work. The two screens

displayed related performances, the left screen was a video

of Jeremy holding a welcome sign to greet new arrivals to the

Auckland International Airport. The right screen was a video of

Jeremy at the bottom of the crater at One Tree Hill collecting and

placing volcanic rocks in such a way so as to again spell out the

word welcome. For English speakers his welcome statement is a

dichotomous expression, an invitation that states an inclusivity

while at the same time what ‘they’ or ‘we’ are being welcomed

into will forever remain exclusive and nondescript. Denying us

an entrant passage as this place is never defined, so subsequently

we can never enter.

Leatinu’u has selected. A 16 by 9 HD camera is set up to frame

the first of three works in Leatinu’u’s Spatial Resonance

series. The composition of the shoot is such that a large steel

sculpture by Dr Richard Shortland Cooper is arranged in the

frame to be slightly off centre. Originally Shortland Cooper

intended that the four steel sheets of the work would vibrate

as the wind passed through and subsequently create sound. It’s

a heavy seemingly immovable work, stolid and monumental. I

move close to listen to it. It may make sound, but I can’t hear

anything. Then I move back to view the screen. The camera is

fixed. The architecture and sculpture are also fixed. The camera

is activated and Leatinu’u begins his performance. He enters

from the right, moving toward the sculpture, taking a position

in front of it. My focus is to monitor the recording, I see the

work through the lens. After pausing for a short time he begins

to hit the work with open palms. His initial strikes appear

probing, testing the potential of the sculpture to make noise.

The slow attack of his initial blows cause a pleasing echoing

sound. However this is lost as the frequency increases and

the resonance begins to build in intensity. Gradually through

the ensuing cacophony a rhythm becomes apparent. Soon the

Jeremy Leatinu’u

remaining silent

throughout, kneeling and writing – he was focused

on the monotonous

task of documenting

everyone.

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uiaki fono

I have two lenses. One is a Pacific lens and the other is European. You can rotate the lens so you can look from the inside or outside. My work is about the unheard voices of our community, of our people. It’s about being broad, not being constrained. – ‘Uhila

On Shortland Street Kalisolaite ‘Uhila climbs the exterior wall

of the Centre. Up ladders barely visible from the roadside he

emerges on the roof. From the opposite side of the road I see

him through the frame of a single lens. Still carrying a camera

I assess the scene with the highest resolution available to me.

Stepping back to look up and down the street what is becoming

clear is that the camera won’t be able to contain the entirety of

the spectacle. Think of the film Zidane: A 21st Century portrait where 17 cameras were trained on the football star. ‘Uhila’s

performance if it were to be documented similarly would

likewise carry with it the sense of being a study of action within

a limited context. Ignorant of ‘Uhila’s socio-spatial activations

that expand and contract beyond what this frame can capture.

‘Uhila’s focus is not fixed and cannot be anticipated in his own

words he his unconstrained. Now he is leaning over the edge of

the building. He peers over the edge and cups his hands to his

mouth. Here he is testing the space. A woman pushing a pram

passes below. Walking oblivious to the performer above who

is now leaning down, poised and watching her with his hands

still at his mouth. He doesn’t call out. He appears to be saving

the words for the performance. This passerby who entered

from outside the frame of the lens, emerged as if from nowhere,

creating an effect like that engendered when unsuspecting

moviegoers stand up in cinemas in front of telesync (TS) bootleg

recordings of films. The passerby has in relation to ‘Uhila

unintentionally signalled that the frame of containment that the

video lens defines is now broken.

I wanted to be up high, use the echo of the surroundings, and call people in using my Tongan language. This is the first performance where I will be using my voice. I’ll be calling out, using the energy from the echoes and my surroundings. – ‘Uhila

But what of capturing the sound? For ‘Uhila deciding to finally

break his silence has been a decision he has made carefully.

When he found that the Kenneth Myers Centre’s former

purpose was as a radio station, he realized that this could be

related to his Tongan culture. He relayed to me that he became

certain of how he would respond to the site after recalling a

conversation with his Mother who had told him that in her

day Tonga didn’t have daily radio or TV communication and

news passed by word of mouth. This caused him to focus on

one of the significant roles in Tongan culture, that of a Uiaki

fono. A Uiaki fono is a specific person in every village or town,

who is chosen to disseminate the word of high ranks such as

kings and nobles. ‘Uhila in describing this role relates it to its’

western counterpart that of the somewhat archaic Town Crier.

On top of the Centre ‘Uhila is difficult to ignore. I have a sense

that like a method actor he will immerse himself wholly in the

role of Uiaki fono. However at this stage my opinion is merely

conjecture. When this text is first read the performance will

now he is leaning

over the edge of the

building. he peers over

the edge and cups his

hands to his mouth.

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already be over. So I can only speculate. I am left questioning.

He has been given the opportunity to speak, when it happens

– whose words will he pass on? And moreover I think of the

Dylan lyrics to ‘You’re gonna have to serve somebody’ and

wonder who it is that ‘Uhila will be serving? On the night of

the performance ‘Uhila as the Uiaki fono will call out loudly,

passing on a welcome that will direct his audience inside.

Seeing him preparing on the roof I am in two minds, it’s

impossible for me not to think of his past works where he’s

subordinated himself and now with his figure so dominant on

the horizon it seems as if he’s shifted social classes. Perhaps

he can do this at will. There is a change evident in this man

on the roof. I see him again as the man I first met some years

ago brimming with confidence, and painting with a machete at

AUT. Then he was making certain and assured gestures, cutting

monochromatic lines into the canvas and creating an artwork,

a tangible object and a commodity. In contrast when he was

performing homelessness or living with pigs as endurance

art he created temporal experiences for those around him.

The signs and placards he made as a homeless artist weren’t

kept and as far as I know he ate the pigs. These subordinate

performances showcased an artist confident enough to shift

his public standing so that through his actions he can reveal

what remains hidden within his audience to his audience. In

the show What do you mean we? 2012, as a homeless artist

living off the donations of visitors to Te Tuhi he was both

supported by some and hated by others. By simply being there,

his performance polarised elements of the community of Te

Tuhi and Pakuranga. His presence was enough to intensify

feelings of unease amongst those who felt confronted. While

his work with a machete in the medium of paint did add a

new Polynesian dimension to a largely western tradition. As

a homeless man, he was working in a medium that is far less

subject to the classifications of scholarly analysis that allow

for an understanding of its intricacies to be learnt. Rather they

have to be experienced. Simply by being present he was able

to trigger uneasy feelings in some, that is without provocation

or insult. Throughout the exhibition ‘Uhila carried a council

permit to show that he was allowed to be outside the gallery at

night. At the end of What do you mean we?, on the closing day

when his permit had expired, police officers arrived. They asked

for the permit and then proceeded to screw it up, telling him

to move along. So while it seems that some things may simply

return to how they were before, another truth is added to the

works’ layers. On the opening night of More than we know he

will perform again, and at this stage this is as much as I know,

I can only guess what will happen.

being there

Early in 2013 I assisted Jeremy as he carried out another series

of work. At this time the work is as yet untitled and yet to be

shown. The work concerns New Zealand’s four statues of Queen

Victoria. The statues are located in Auckland, Wellington,

Christchurch and Dunedin. Filmed in four parts the work

involves Leatinu’u sitting atop a ladder in front of each of these

statues and spending time with the Queen.

Whenever you see a ladder by a statue it could either mean that someone’s there to preserve it or to deface it. I’m doing neither. – Leatinu’u

The series shows that Leatinu’u acknowledges the statues as

symbols of the complex historical and political expressions

of British imperialism. Through the use of a ladder as both

prop and symbol, Leatinu’u generates a subtle shift in power

relations. While his position in relation to the ground does

become elevated, it never lifts above that of the Queen. There is

never a sense that his intention is to supersede her position in

a way that would take make him more dominant – If that could

ever be done? The work mimics the tradition of placing objects

on plinths to elevate the object and refocus our perception of

it away from the banal. The ladder performs the same function

as the plinth. Through a working class object Leatinu’u is

elevated so that we might watch and consider him as he himself

is perhaps also considering his own relationship to the Queen.

This is a layered meditation that operates in terms that seem

to pivot around the notion of class. Leatinu’u has transversed

these significant distances in order to sew the points on the

colonial map together.

as a homeless

artist living off the

donations of visitors

to te tuhi he was both

supported by some and

hated by others.

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12 13

Here I would speak briefly of the expressions of power that are

all a part of colonial expansion. I would continue to talk about

roads cut through pa sites, dawn raids and a rampant enactment

of strategies of displacement. However I would speak from a

position of seeing the traces of this juggernaut, without ever

having directly felt its irrespective embrace. So I have issues

around who it would be to best engage in this discourse. But in

the absence of others to speak, I would conjure them up in a text.

Let’s make this a cold language we’re speaking – in order to talk

the properties of becoming colonised. Let’s take an imagined

journey through the streets of Martinborough. A journey that was

first highlighted in the work of Robert Yahnke’s Ta te whenua.

In that work an aerial photograph reveals that the town’s plan

was designed with the union jack as its’ counterpoint. I’ve never

been, so I must imagine that at this time there’s someone walking

toward that centre. And this is my point, I wonder if nearing that

point if you get the sense of that overlay? Does standing at the

convergence of those eight roads allow for some form of colonial

revelation? Could they or we experience the extent of imperial

vision in relation to the colonial project? This is where the

performance artist arrives as key, in order that we might through

observation and vicarious osmosis understand the complexity

of a problem with further clarity. These questions will never be

answered unless we go there, if we can. In this show both of these

artists have either stood or will stand where we can’t. Where we

don’t have access. They are doing what is needed in order to serve

our ever growing understanding of what place can become.Ite Uhila

does standing at the

convergence of those eight

roads allow for some form

of colonial revelation?

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14 15

The Kenneth Myers Centre has been the setting of some of

the most pivotal moments in New Zealand’s performance

history. Designed as a series of soundproof studios, the

building was originally home to IYA, a government-owned

national radio station described at its opening as the “most

powerful [broadcasting station] in New Zealand or Australia”.1

The building has over time also housed a number of television

stations, and in 1960 it hosted New Zealand’s first official

television broadcast.2 The studios additionally provided

rehearsal and recording spaces for a number of local musicians

in the 1990s. Finally, in 2001, the building was refurbished by

The University of Auckland for use by the School of Creative and

Performing Arts, ensuring that the Centre’s legacy as a hub of

performance will continue into the future.

Yet the rich lineage of performance activity at this site is

known to relatively few beyond its current occupants. From

street level, the neo-Romanesque architecture gives little away,

although the steel radio transmitter on the roof and the re-cast

IYA entrance lamps at the entrance hint at its performance

heritage. What appears to be a single storey deceptively masks

three further storeys descending a steep slope. It is here,

beyond the public’s purview, that numerous performance

spaces — including dance studios, music classrooms, video edit

suites, sound studios and practice rooms — can be found.

Indeed, what we know of a historic building is often

influenced by the spatial features of the site. In her essay,

Kinds of place at bore place: Site-specific performance and

the rules of spatial behaviour, Fiona Wilkie discusses the

importance of various “spatial rules”. These rules, Wilkie writes,

performing on the border a series of site-specific responses

Ioana Gordon-Smith

Terry Faleono

Page 10: Tautai More Than We Know Catalogue

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prescribe “what can be done and seen in a place, and how

one might move about it”.3 Some rules are ‘built in’, such as

the physical structures and spatial layout of a building. These

permanent features can either facilitate or restrict the flow of

sound, visibility and movement from one space into another.

More than we know: performance is a series of site-

specific and site-based performances that explore how the

spatial features of the Kenneth Myers Centre shape transmission

from the site into the street, and by corollary what we know of

the building. Between 6–22 March 2013, various areas around

the building will be occupied by one of seven performances.

These works are intended to interrogate, expose and disrupt the

structures that can limit public awareness of the Kenneth Myers

Centre’s histories and functions.

The performers in this series have identified two

particular features of the site that are crucial in negotiating

the relationship between the site and the public. The first is

the architecture of the Kenneth Myers Centre itself. Its 56 cm,

double-layered brick walls and the triple-glazed glass have been

custom built to prevent passersby from both hearing sounds

coming from the building and from disrupting recording inside.

There are no views either in or out of the building either.The

few windows facing Shortland Street look out upon a concrete

wall, as if the building were encased within an architectural

shell.

The second spatial feature that performers have responded

to is the space that lies between the Kenneth Myers Centre and

the street. Each of the outdoor performances occupies a space

on this border, including the front entrance steps, the steps

that lead down the side of the building, and the roof. These

liminal spaces mediate the exchange between the interior of the

building and the public walking by.

A couple of works mimic the effects of the building’s

insulation. In her untitled performance, Darcell Apelu uses

modern audio equipment to amplify the sound of her breathing.

By turning the speaker inward and holding it tight against her

torso, Apelu stifles the output of sound with her body. Only

the quietest of noises seep out of the edges of her embrace.

Similarly, in Under my umbrella, dancers Terry Faleono and

Pera Afato employ an umbrella as a metaphor for the building’s

visual impenetrability.

Nastashia Simeona Apelu’s untitled performance offers

some idea of how the fortress-like building may appear to the

public. The echoing sonic boom created as the whip cracks

inevitably draws the public attention. During the photo shoot

for this catalogue, dwellers watched from their apartment

balconies, teenagers hollered from the nearby car park, and

many others crossed the road to watch from the safety of the

other side of the street. Yet, while attention grabbing, the whip-

Darcell Apelu

Untitled

these works are intended

to interrogate, expose and disrupt the structures

that can limit public

awareness of the kenneth

myers centre’s histories and

functions.

Page 11: Tautai More Than We Know Catalogue

18

performance is visibly dangerous. Get too close and — snap!

— you may get hurt. Simeona Apelu’s performance thus creates

a periphery of danger that prevents any practical attempts to

enter the building. Her performance draws attention to the

space she occupies — the frontal steps that bridge the building

and the public footpath — as an intimidating threshold to cross.

With varying degrees of confrontation, each of these

three performances suggest a paucity of exchange between the

Kenneth Myers Centre and the street. Little sound or movement

emerges from the building, and so too do few people venture

into the studios. It’s important to note that many visitors do

enter the building in order to access the Gus Fisher Gallery

found on the top floor. The performance activities taking place

in the studios on the levels below, nevertheless, remain little

known. Paradoxically, by drawing attention to the presence of

a boundary, these three performances announce that there is

more to the building than meets the eye.

The remaining performances employ tactics of

displacement to disrupt the spatial barriers between the

Nastashia Simeona Apelu

building and the public. In their performance Niu Navigations, a

spoken poetry company, take sounds heard inside the Kenneth

Myers Centre to a public audience. Contemporary spoken

poetry — an art form that emerged in the 1980s in order to seek

a broader audience for poetry outside of academic institutions4

— provides a particularly apt medium for this purpose. From the

frontal steps, each of the five poets comprising Niu Navigations

perform a poem they have penned in response to Jeremy

Leatinu’u’s soundscape work, Spatial resonance. Currently on

display as a projected installation in the Gus Fisher Gallery of

the Centre, Spatial resonance documents Leatinu’u producing

sound in three spaces around the building: the courtyard, the

stairs leading down to the courtyard, and the undercarriage

hidden beneath the frontal steps. By referencing a soundscape

encountered inside the Centre, Niu Navigations echo, in

reverse, Leatinu’u’s act of bringing sound from outside to the

indoor environment of the gallery.

Movement is also resituated outdoors by way of a trio

of dances, performed by The University of Auckland’s dance

niu navigations

echo, in reverse,

leatinu’u’s act of

bringing sound from

outside to the indoor

environment of the

gallery.

Niu Navigations

Page 12: Tautai More Than We Know Catalogue

20 21

students. Peace, Pak’n’saved and If I was a boy were each

originally conceived, practiced and assessed in the Kenneth

Myers Centre’s dance studio by choreographers Joshua Grace,

Seidah Tuaoi and Nita Latu respectively. They have been

adapted for a new stage on the frontal steps of the Kenneth

Myers Center, quite literally bringing dance from within the

building outside.

Providing displacement of a different nature is a medley

of contemporary and traditional Tongan dances, performed

by Auckland dance company Pukepuke ‘O Tonga and

choreographed by Sesilia Pusiaki. Staged on a Saturday evening

during extended hours, Pukepuke ‘O Tonga’s performance offers

the only work to take place inside the building. In contrast

to the other performers, Pusiaki aims to resituate the public

audience, rather than the performance. The piece begins in the

foyer — a familiar place for visitors to the Gus Fisher Gallery.

The dancers then lead the audience into a studio known to

students as the ‘black-box’ on the level below. Little known to

the public, this studio is where many local television shows,

The University

of Auckland’s

dance students.

including national telethons, were broadcast up until the 1990s.

Pusiaki uses the familiarity of the foyer, and the publicised

event, to draw the audience into the building and then into the

studio space.

In addition to drawing attention to the performance

activity associated with the Kenneth Myers Centre, the act of

moving a performances or an audience into an alien setting

prompts a renewed sensory engagement with the building

itself. For the outdoor performances in particular, displacement

is an act of trespass upon the expectations of those passing

by an otherwise familiar public space. The incongruous

and unsolicited spectacles are intended to shake up the

complacency, or even apathy, with which the public regards

the Kenneth Myers Centre. The outdoor performances are

staged at 5.00 pm each weekday, increasing the reach of the

performances as hoards of workers hurry home from work.

Theatre historian Christopher Balme has observed a

growing trend in Pacific theatre towards similar strategies

of displacement, whereby indigenous Pacific performance

Pukepuke ‘O Tonga

Sesilia Pusiaki

the dancers then lead

the audience into a studio

known to students as the ‘black-box’ on the

level below.

Page 13: Tautai More Than We Know Catalogue

22 23

is placed within conventional European contexts.5 Balme

argues that this preserves potentially endangered cultural

knowledge while also achieving a multi-cultural situation.

Performance artist Kalisolaite ‘Uhila has previously called

this amalgamation of influences “poly-cultural”, playing on

the prefix ‘poly’ as meaning both ‘Polynesian’ as well as ‘more

than one’.6 A number of artists in this series demonstrate

this trend, preserving Pacific traditions within contemporary

Western environments. Pusiaki’s choreography, performed

in a traditional theatre-like setting for an Auckland audience,

includes esoteric dance forms particular to her Tongan village.

Similarly, Seidah Tuaoi’s performance hybridises Pacific and Hip

Hop dance styles.

Performing on the boundary — both cultural and physical

— provides ample opportunity to import elements from one

space into another. This is perhaps the most evident in Uiaki fono (town crier), which both publicly proclaims the building’s

history of sound and invites people to the building. From a

raised platform in front of the steel transmission tower on

the rooftop, Kalisolaite ‘Uhila projects the sound of Tongan

drumming. The resulting echo above the street is deliberately

reminiscent of the building’s previous function as a radio and

television broadcaster. However, whereas radio functions to

disseminate sound from one location to many others, Uhila’s

interest is in using sound as a welcoming call to draw people

towards the building.

‘Uhila combines drumming with chanting in Tongan in an

encore performance. Chanting in public is inherently social,

and has been traditionally used in Tonga, in the absence of

radio technology, to call people together in order to pass on

information.7 In his second performance, ‘Uhila is also joined by

Jeremy Leatinu’u, who re-enacts the soundscape work Spatial

Resonance, described above. This collaborative performance

transforms the spaces around the building quite literally into a

place of conversation as ‘Uhila and Leatinu’u employ drumming,

vocal calling and rhythms created using the building’s exterior

surfaces to respond to each other in turn.

Each of the seven performances emphasises the significance

of spatial factors in shaping our knowledge of the Kenneth

Myers Centre. The unyielding architecture remains a constant

feature that prevents sound from spilling into the street. The

role of the liminal space between the building and the street,

however, vacillates. It can act as a boundary or threshold, or

even a place of exchange, mitigating the building’s aural and

visual opacity. These performances enact the different functions

of the space between. They reveal that rather than having one

set “spatial rule”, the space between the building and the public

is a junction of constant negotiation. This series draws the

audience into the conversation. The resulting

echo above the street is deliberately

reminiscent of the building’s

previous function as a radio and

television broadcaster.

Page 14: Tautai More Than We Know Catalogue

25

This publication and the associated exhibition and performances are supported by

Tautai exits to promote, support, and encourage artists with pacific heritage.

As a registered charitable trust Tautai operates on the understanding that the artists remain independent of Tautai and come together through their Tautai connection to participate in art events.

Tautai receives major public funding from Creative New Zealand and also receives significant funding from ASB Community Trust.

www.tautai.org

Published by Tautai Contemporary

Pacific Arts Trust, on the occasion of

More Than We Know

28 February – 24 March and the

More Than We Know: Performance

6 – 24 March at Gus Fisher Gallery,

74 Shortland Street, Auckland,

New Zealand.

Part of the 2013 Auckland Arts Festival

All images by Robert George

© Tautai Contemporary Pacific Arts

Trust, Rangituhia Hollis,

Ioana Gordon-Smith

ISBN 978-0-473-23666-3

Design: Jacinda Torrance

Printing: Soar Printing, Auckland

1 ‘New IYA: Powerful station’, Evening Post, Issue 20, 24 January 1935, p. 21.

2 ‘The Early Years’, http://tvnz.co.nz/content/823802, accessed 21 January 2013.

3 Fiona Wilkie, ‘Kinds of Place at Bore Place: Site-Specific Performance and the Rules of Spatial Behaviour’, New Theatre Quarterly, 18 (71), 2002: p. 244.

4 Susan B. A. Somers-Willett, The Cultural Politics of Slam Poetry: Race, Identity, and the Performance of Popular Verse in America, Michigan: University of Michigan Press, 2009, pp. 2-3.

5 Christopher Balme, Pacific Performances: Theatricality and Cross-Cultural Encounter in the South Seas, Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007, p. 216.

6 Kalisolaite ‘Uhila, ‘Sound makes the Mark – Mark makes the Sound’, 2010. http://visualartsgrads.aut.deploy.gravitate.co.nz/html/detail.php?id=1474, accessed 21 January 2013.

7 Kalisolaite ‘Uhila, personal correspondence, 11 January 2013

Endnotes

Page 15: Tautai More Than We Know Catalogue

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