Ia Rā, Ia Rā (Rere Runga, Rere Raro) was commissioned for the tenth Asia Pacific Triennial at QAGOMA, Brisbane, where it’s currently presented as an immersive, three- channel video installation (4 December 2021–25 April 2022). Things being as they are, it’s unlikely that I’ll visit the exhibition before it closes. Currently, the thought of travelling, even to a relatively close destination, feels unnatural. Working remotely—collaborating online while trying to imagine, then establish, a presence elsewhere—is becoming a common scenario. As I write this, my family is in mandatory isolation, as one of my kids tested positive for Covid. Yesterday we celebrated my daughter’s birthday with an unexpected staycation. Fractures like these stack up, and are part of the troubled dynamic we are all having to contend with.

Ia Rā, Ia Rā consists of thirty-six still images, with a pao, written and performed by Kurt Komene, as the soundtrack. Its lyrics suggest t ̄ıwakawaka (fantails) surveying events both seen and unseen. ‘Rere runga, rere raro’ (I fly high, I fly low). T ̄ıwakawaka are naturally erratic, operating between the tangible and intangible. The two young men portrayed also straddle this divide. They are there and not there.

I’d like to acknowledge everyone who supported this project, from its conception to its current home in Brisbane. Given our circumstances, being together— collaborating, working in the same space—has become a luxury. Your energy and commitment are my privilege. To all those who contributed to this work, I’m incredibly grateful. Nga ̄ mihi nui ki a koutou.

Amidst all the turbulence, I’ve received news of lost loved ones like a shot to the stomach. I’ve attended memorials over Zoom. It’s not a natural setting, but the importance of coming together cuts through. With all this in mind, I dedicate this entry to anyone in mourning, to everyone who is battling, and to all of us contending with unsettling vibrations. I pay respect to friends, whānau, loved ones, yours and mine, here and not here.