History curator Claire Regnault with Jo Dixey's viruses. Photo / Maarten Holl, Te Papa.
On the six month anniversary of New Zealand's first lockdown, on March 26, Joanna Mathers talks with three makers about their exquisite creative responses to a pandemic.
An epoch is marked by the minutia of its moments. On March 26, 2020, when New Zealand went into level 4 lockdown, hours were measured by the rise of sourdough starters, the planting of roadside poppies and the creation of art.
Te Papa, the Museum of New Zealand, is a collector of such moments. Consider its works: aprons embroidered by soldiers from World War I, the final notice for earthquake-prone buildings after the 2010-11 Christchurch earthquakes. Banal and beautiful slivers of history.
When New Zealand shut its doors, Te Papa's curators had a unique challenge. Collecting from life is part of their vocational DNA – they connect with communities to discover items of historical import. Lockdown prevented them from taking part in this: barred from their cultural communities, the collection process, through necessity, became virtual.
Today marks six months since the first Covid-19 lockdown. During this time, Te Papa has collected more than 30 items related to the world pandemic and its impact on Aotearoa. These items are history in action: they will inform our grandchildren's understanding of these strange days.
There are government information posters, home-made face masks and ugly reminders of racism targeted at Asian New Zealanders as the virus progressed. There are also artistic, creative responses to a time that's unprecedented in Aotearoa's history.
Here are three of the works created during the level 4 Covid lockdown and collected by our national museum.
Embroidered viruses, Jo Dixey
"Part of [the reason for the creation of the viruses] was 'you can't fight what you can't see'. I needed to create a physical embodiment of the images of Covid-19 we saw flickering under microscopes. So I had a thought, 'I'll make a jar of viruses, so I can sort this all out in my head'."
Jo Dixey is an Auckland-based embroiderer, textile artist and teacher, trained at the Royal School of Needlework in London. When lockdown was announced, she knew that "time would disappear" if she didn't have a plan to create something.
"I'm a freelancer, so I am used to working at home - but not with the whole family here," she says. "I needed a way to bring structure into my days."
Photographic images of the viruses had been widely disseminated: the sphere with its textured spikes was beautiful, albeit in a strange and dissonant way. It was calling out for recreation.
Dixey's first virus was made from fabric and quite large; the second crafted using buttonhole stitch. As they multiplied and morphed, they infected Dixey's creative imagination: a strange mirror of the real virus' progress across the planet.
Virus number three, crafted with wire and pearls, mutated.
"It didn't work out the way I had planned," says Dixey. "It collapsed, it looked like the virus had died."
Day after day she created viruses for her jar, sharing her work on Instagram. The response was intensely positive, people had strong favourites and shared images they had seen of the virus to offer her inspiration.
Te Papa's interest was piqued via this platform. One of the curators searching for Covid-related work spotted Dixey's viruses; they were drawn to the obsessive nature of their creation and their ability to tell a story about our lives today, in 2020.
Oddly, Dixey's creative infection diminished as New Zealand headed towards Covid-19 emancipation. By the end of lockdown, she had created 26 viruses, popped them in a jar, and closed the lid.
"I had started with the intention of creating a virus a day but the creations became more elaborate and complex. Some were very sinister. But my desire to create viruses was like an infection itself and it came to a natural end," she says.
"I don't need to make any more, I've developed an immunity to them now," she laughs.
The acquisition of the works by Te Papa, she explains, has shifted her relationship with the viruses.
"Now they are museum pieces and their persona has shifted. They would have just been sitting in my studio in a sealed jar but instead, they are the documentation of something massive."
Lichen finger moth and chain bracelet, Lisa West
The silver arrived a week into lockdown. It's arrival had been anticipated but Lisa West thought there was little point making jewellery for customers who couldn't buy it.
There was another realisation.
"I kinda thought, 'Yay! The Government is giving me money and I don't have to leave the house," she says.
West admits that lockdown was an introvert's heaven. The highly regarded jeweller, who sells her work through Masterworks Gallery, spends her time living and working in a bush-clad section in Birkenhead. Her family also have a section of land on Rakino Island. Accordingly, much of her creative output is dedicated to the natural world.
The first few days of lockdown were spent gardening. But when the silver arrived, it seemed sad to waste an opportunity to create, even if it wasn't to be sold. When conceptualising a subject, her mind "took a flight of fancy" around Covid-19's ability to be transmitted readily via surfaces.
"We were being told to wash our hands a lot and this [was the impetus] for me moving into a big research phase. I started researching the plague, the ways in which people warded off the 'evil eye'. I also started thinking about the importance of hands, how they were used for gestures, for blessings like the Papal benediction."
Concurrently, she became aware that Covid-19 only lasted four hours on copper: ideas swam and morphed, inspiration was fed by research, an idea emerged.
The outworking of West's "flight of fancy" took form of a lichen moth, silver with a copper tongue, for use on public keypads.
She'd been working through an obsession with insects (creating brooches of weta and butterflies) so it was a natural progression. The first in a series of three, the lichen moth was completed on April 2, just a week into lockdown. A long-haired beetle, and an articulated kōura (crayfish) completed the collection.
It was the lichen moth, its copper tongue shielding the wearer's finger from contagion, that captured the imagination of Te Papa's curators. The museum has described it as a materialisation of one of the virus' critical characteristics, its ability to be transmitted by touch and our physical and psychological desire to protect each other from harm.
West is delighted that it was chosen by the museum.
"Te Papa found out about the work through Masterworks Gallery, and it's the first piece I have had in the museum, so it's a real honour."
West also used the time lent during lockdown to create an amulet to attract one of her favourite birds, the kākā. Her kākā beak pendant sits thematically within the concept of items that repel and attract: if the lichen moth warded off inflection, the amulet worked just as effectively.
"I wanted to try to attract kākā back to Rakino Island but that didn't happen. One turned up here, at my house, instead: about two months ago. He's now a resident and he's got a girlfriend. I'm pretty pleased that the kākā beak pendant that I made to attract the birds has actually worked."
Korowai, Isaac Te Awa
The moku was scavenged and scouted from the streets of Wellington. Following tips from local weavers, Isaac Te Awa (Curator Mātauranga Māori Te Papa) explored backyards and back blocks, sourcing the flax needed for korowai.
A craftsperson adept in the art of Māori weaving, he'd been creating a korowai for a while. But work is a thief of time and the process had been piecemeal, taking place on weekends and after work.
So, when lockdown as announced, Te Awa found himself with an abundance of time to create.
Korowai is a traditional Māori cloak with hukahuka (tassels) that represent emotions, tears, or the shimmering of water.
The creation of korowai is long and laboursome: the flax must be sourced and gathered then fibres extracted by scraping with a mussel shell they are washed and turned into thread.
Te Awa had learned some of the art of weaving from his koroua (grandfather) but just the basics. His skills were honed under the tutelage of Veranoa Hetet, one of New Zealand's leading exponents of the craft.
Te Awa was visiting Australia when Covid-19 emerged in Aotearoa. He made it back to New Zealand before lockdown but was compelled to spend two weeks self-isolating in his flat in Wellington.
When the craziness of level 4 hit, Te Awa had to nut out new ways of conducting his daily work; he also had the opportunity to work on his korowai.
The ritual and repetition of the work "kept me sane", he says.
"It was kind of a driving force of sanity that became part of my daily routine. I was able to achieve so much on the korowai, which would normally take many months of work."
When the end of lockdown was announced, Te Awa admits to a certain sense of disappointment. The ritual of creation had been deeply rewarding and the project's end was in sight – he just needed a little more time.
"I felt sad that I had to go back to work. I'd just needed another three weeks to finish."
The pure-white cloak, with its black hukahuka, is now nearly complete.
"I aim to have it finished in October, for an exhibition in Whakatāne showcasing the work of New Zealand's male weavers."
He will be "hanging on to the korowai" but it will also be used for ceremonial purposes at Te Papa.
"It will be very useful when we have visitors to Te Papa, because we don't have a korowai that can be used for such occasions. We have korowai in our collection but we don't use the nation's taonga for this purpose."
"Te Papa collects history as it's happening, to tell the story of our times for future generations. We've collected items that are quirky and beautiful and some that show the ugly side of our response to Covid-19. Part of our collecting looks at Asian New Zealanders' experience of the pandemic and reflect the racism they encountered.
"This archive will enable us to tell powerful stories about life in Aotearoa in 2020. As items are acquired they become part of our Collections Online, available to researchers and the public around the world."
- Dr Safua Akeli Amaama, head of New Zealand and Pacific Cultures at Te Papa.
cTe Papa's Covid-19 collections can be viewed at tepapa.govt.nz/covid
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