It’s been so warm here in Te Tairāwhiti, and I’ve really enjoyed being out in the sunshine getting my mahi done. I started this piupiu a month ago during my last visit, and it has since dried beautifully—perfectly ready for weaving.
This piece is for my mate Parekura, who is a taura of Te Kura o Tūranga, a wānanga mau rākau based here in Tūranga-nui-ā-Kiwa. Kākahu (traditional clothing) are a vital part of a toa’s ability to carry out mātataki (ceremonial protocols). Without the appropriate kākahu, those kawa cannot be fulfilled. So the role of these garments is not just aesthetic—they hold significance in honouring the ceremony itself.
There are also practical functions that certain kākahu provide for kairākau: freedom of movement, protection, warmth, concealment of weapons, shelter, camouflage, and more.
When it comes to weaving, I think I’ve mentioned before how much I enjoy being outside whenever I can. A lot of the weaving we do tends to keep us indoors, sitting in one place for long stretches. So whenever there’s a chance to be outside, I take it.
I’ve set up a space next to the pā harakeke where I plant my turuturu (weaving sticks) directly into the ground to hang the piupiu. This is how our old people used to weave. I like the sticks to be taller so that I can work between a standing and seated position—I prefer to be standing, but it’s nice to have the option to sit as well. When it rains, I move to the shed, where I have a place to hang the piupiu.
One of the things I love about our weaving is how portable it is. We don’t rely on looms or heavy tools that tie us to one spot—our methods allow us to move, to work where we feel most connected.
There are still a few elements I want to add to the piupiu—some details on the tātua—which I’ll do once it’s dry. I’ll be taking it back to Tūrangi with me in the morning to continue working on it while I’m there for another kaupapa over the weekend. I’ll return to Tūranga on Monday.
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It’s been a privilege to share Punarua with our iwi of Tūwharetoa this Matariki. Commissioned by the 2024 Biennale of Sydney under the theme Ten Thousand Suns, Punarua pays tribute to our esteemed rangatira Koro Te Kanawa Pitiroi, who played a pivotal role in preserving the oral traditions of our iwi. One kōrero in particular, Māui-takitaki-o-te-rā, became the guiding narrative in the creation of this work.
Punarua was woven in Tokaanu by Tūwharetoa weavers Hone Bailey, Paehoro Konui, Merānia Heke-Chase, and Manu Fox. Over 1,800 harakeke leaves—primarily sourced from Awahou (Foxton)—were used, and the piece was dyed using traditional methods with mānuka, paru, and raurēkau. Taking more than 1,000 hours to complete over two and a half months, the work stands 207 cm tall and 182 cm in width.
The exhibition also features a short documentary that follows the full journey—from harvesting the fibres to its international debut—offering a glimpse behind the scenes and into the heart of the kaupapa.
This Matariki, we celebrate the threads that connect us across generations. Punarua will remain on long-term loan at Taupō Museum for the next two years, giving whānau and community the opportunity to visit, learn, and reconnect.
We’re deeply grateful to Taupō Museum and curator Piata Winitana-Murray for helping make this exhibition possible. It was incredibly important to us that Punarua return to Tūwharetoa, and we’re so thankful to see that vision realised.
Matariki is on the horizon again, and with it comes the fresh energy of a new year. It always seems to arrive faster than expected! I’m feeling grateful for another year of doing the work I love and for the opportunities that have come with it.
As we enter this season of reflection, I’m taking a moment to reset — to think clearly about the year ahead, set new intentions, and make sure my work continues to align with who I am and what inspires me. As things evolve, I’m learning to simplify.
I’m especially happy to be able to be home in Aotearoa for Matariki this year. Since returning from my little trip to Japan I have been working hard to finish all my projects before leaving Hawai’i. I will be home for 3 or so weeks and Im really looking forward to the kaupapa I will be apart of in that time.
We are proud to announce that our Tāonga @paehoro_konui @meraaniahcp @_manu20_ Punarua, will be exhibited at the Taupō Museum from June 7 to July 14, 2025.
This work honours the legacy of Koro Te Kanawa Pitiroi, an esteemed leader of Ngāti Tūwharetoa. Rooted in kōrero tuku iho preserved and perpetuated by Koro Te Kanawa, Punarua speaks to the puna mātauranga—the wellsprings of knowledge and guidance embodied by our wāhine—and the interwoven threads of memory, identity, and transformation.
I will also be giving an artist talk on selected dates throughout the exhibition—details to be shared soon.
We warmly invite you to visit, reflect, and be part of the kōrero.
Nau mai, tauti mai!
I had a busy trip home, but I was lucky—the weather was beautiful while I was there, and I managed to get through everything I needed to do. I’m back in Hawai‘i now for a short visit and making the most of the time I have.
We’re approaching Matariki, the Māori New Year. Ideally, I’d love to slow down and be fully present during this time, but it’s looking like kaupapa after kaupapa on the horizon—so we keep going, and I’m grateful. I truly appreciate the mahi that continues to flow in.
I’ll be heading back home in a few weeks. Punarua will finally be on display at the Taupō Museum during Matariki, and we’re excited for everyone to be able to see her. I’ll post the exhibition details in my stories soon.
So with my time here being short, my days have been looking like this. Bouncing between projects and housework, trying to make the most of this small window. Tomorrow I head to Japan for a few days— a little holiday. I am getting all my work done before then. It’ll be my first time returning since I lived there, and I’m really looking forward to it.
Im am wondering if I can fit some of these projects into my bag to take with me to Japan…
We finished weaving the last piupiu this morning and went straight into preparing for dyeing. After discussing the plan and taking a dye sample, we waited for it to dry—over a kapu tī, a sandwich, and a cheese board. The true colour of the dye can only be seen once the fibres are completely dry, and when our sample dried, it wasn’t quite right.
From there, we talked through what needed adjusting, reached a shared decision, and went ahead with the changes—no further testing, just straight into dyeing the piupiu.
When dyeing, the piupiu are only submerged for a short time; leaving them in too long risks staining the leafy parts as well as giving us a different red than what we are after. A timer is set to ensure they’re removed at the right moment. The waistband, being tightly woven, needs extra effort to allow the dye to penetrate—so it’s worked vigorously by hand while in the dye bath. Once out, each piupiu is rinsed in another bath to remove excess dye before being hung out to dry.
Seeing the piupiu lined up on the line, I as a weaver know the amount of work this is for one person and Im so proud of @_manu20_ . I can really see the time, energy and love she has poured into this project—making trips to harvest, taking bundles of whenu to hākuku while at her kids sports practices and games, journeys to the puia(hot springs) for boiling, processes done over and over again. It’s a massive undertaking.
@paehoro_konui and I have come in at the tail end to support Manu with this final stretch which is a big mahi on its own. Making piupiu is a long and tedious mahi.
As mentioned before, these piupiu are for the local kura(school) Te Kura o Hīrangi. Many years ago now a group of weavers, friends and whānau of ours, made the first set of piupiu for the kura which are now getting old and tattered and need replacing. We didnt get the notes or dye recipes from the last group hence why we have to do a bit of dye matching to the original colour which in the camera looks like a normal red but in real life it is not a typical red so colour matching is not straightforward. Anyways we kept it simple and followed our experience with the previous lot we and it was 👌🏽.
On Monday I arrived in Tūrangi from Tūranga. @_manu20_ has been working on a set of piupiu for Te Kura o Hīrangi, so I came to lend a hand while she completes the whiri and moves into the dyeing stage. The design and colour of the original piupiu were created many years ago by another group of weavers. As those have worn out, the kura has been replacing them gradually—twelve piupiu at a time, each year which is a great idea.
When we started working on the replacement sets 2 years ago, I offered the option to use velcro tātua to make the dressing process easier for the children. Traditionally, teachers or parents help tie the piupiu, which can be quite a rigmarole. We asked the kura if they’d like to trial the velcro option, and they were keen. It does involve extra work in the making, as the tātua or waistband must be built up to 1.5 inches in width to accomodate a 1 inch velcro which has a strong, unbreakable hold. Anything narrower simply won’t do.
I’ll speak more about the dyeing process and attaching the velcro in the next video. I’ll also add a few clips in my stories today from the last time we did this.
Manu and I set up under a tree to begin—it’s far too beautiful to be inside. The sun was warm, but the chilly wind kept coming and going, and eventually it got too cold, so we moved indoors—which turned out to be a wise decision. We managed to complete six piupiu together, ready for dyeing today, and we’re aiming to finish the weaving on the remaining lot today as well ready for dyeing tomorrow. My visit here is a short one, so we’re doing our best to get through everything before I return to Hawai’i.
I’ve shared this process many times before, so I’ve been thinking—what’s something new I can offer this time?
It’s been a year since I last made a lot of piupiu, a journey that began here in Muriwai and completed on a little road trip up the coast to Whangārei. Though the process remains the same—harvesting, prepping whenu, whakapā, hākuku, miro, whiri—there’s always something revealed or added each time. New insights. A new rhythm. A different version of yourself meeting the same tukanga.
Maybe that’s what’s new: not the process, but the person returning to it.
It’s my last day here in Muriwai, and I’m finishing off the last of the leaves harvested during the big clean-out. I’ve been preparing pōkinikini for a maro-style piupiu, while Pare has been working on the hāro. Just a few more pairs of pōkinikini for me to finish the hākuku on this maro and then the rest of the whenu we will hāro.
I’m really happy knowing that from this short visit, we’ve managed to cover so much—harvesting and cleaning, replanting, pōkinikini, muka, and tags. It’s been full-on, but I’m proud of what’s been completed.
Yesterday I spent time replanting some pūtake I had removed from along the fenceline. Pūtake refers to the base of the fan and its roots. Once removed from the pā for replanting, these are often referred to as tipu or tupu.
To prepare the tupu for replanting, all leaves need to be cut off at the base. This helps redirect the energy of the pūtake into establishing strong roots, rather than trying to keep old leaves alive. If the rito (central shoot) is particularly long, it should also be trimmed. A long rito becomes floppy as the pūtake’s energy drops, and it can be damaged by the wind. Typically, when the visible rito is long, a new one is already forming within it. Cutting it shorter helps provide a sturdier sheath that protects the new shoot as the plant re-establishes.
It’s essential that the pūtake has roots—at least a few small rootlets. If there are no roots at all, it’s unlikely to survive.
After preparing the tipu, I cleared the grass and loosened the soil for planting. The roots should be covered, but the base of the pūtake should sit on the earth. Planting it too deep can cause it to rot.
The first variety I replanted had to fill an empty space in the fenceline where this variety is already growing so I filled the space with all the tupu. Normally, I would only plant three or four in one spot, but I didn’t have another place for the rest. Planting this many in close proximity isn’t a problem—it just means they’ll become crowded quickly once they begin sending out offshoots. I’ll need to keep them well maintained from the beginning.
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Scraping leaves in the shed on a Monday night.