“My artworks in Hono re-establish lines from atua to tohunga to tangata—from gods to spiritual guides to people. Each piece represents a different atua. I am trying to reconnect the spiritual lines that have been broken because our tohunga, our guides here on this physical earth, are affected by all the problems that Māori face: addiction, mental health, prison, poverty … Without healthy tohunga in the community, doing their work, the people suffer. This is what I see happening. I am not methodical in what I collect; I go with what I am gifted from Tangaroa and I follow it—follow it, putting the wairua in the forefront, instead of the hinegaro. I have to interpret my unique process, know that it is the right path for me to take, and be true to that. The beach determines what I gather—Ōtaki Beach, where I live. The driftwood is amazing. The other day, there was a huge tide and all of these big beautiful shells popped up. They have their own language and symbolism; each shell is different. There are some incredible tohu between the conch shells of the Pacific. The shell culture is coming back. We are appreciating and valuing the shells, making lei, and wearing them every day, just as they do in the islands—because we are in the islands!” —Neke Moa (Whare Papaīra, Ngāti Kahungunu, Kāi Tahu, Ngāti Porou, Ngāti Tūwharetoa).

“I call these works ‘veils’. For Hono, there have been two major conceptual and formal shifts from previously exhibited versions. Each veil has been painted on both sides. There is the painting that faces you and another that you are able to catch glimpses of when the strands are activated by a gentle breeze or a curious finger running across the work. Here, I acknowledge what I consider to be cultural identity: two forms of knowledge—knowledge and non-knowledge. I use ‘non’ as a strategy to point to something that I haven’t fully seen or met yet. By accepting that there are non-visible chambers of information, or data, a desire to disrupt things follows. One wants to uncover or flip things on their heads to see more. The veils are in tension with the oak anchor above, beautifully constructed to hold the seemingly precarious threads. But there is nothing unstable here, just a range of entities woven and pressed together by force and gravity. They exist as their own environment, in harmony with one another. The individual slivers of a fuller picture never quite reach their destination, moving constantly between departure and arrival. This suggests migration or immigration, and a state of cultural transition.” —Jade Townsend (Ngāti Kahungunu, Te Ātihaunui-a-Pāpārangi).