Joanna Wane steps back in time to hunt for hidden treasure – and discovers it's in danger of being lost forever
It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the shadows but then, one by one, three taniwha emerge from the limestone canvas. A shaft of light illuminates the largest figure, drawn in swirls of black pigment on the ceiling of this natural rock overhang that's been sheltering travellers through this landscape for centuries.
The line of its tail curls around a second taniwha, which has no head. The third is stockier and intricately detailed. Settling into the moment, I let my gaze wander. As more and more images take shape, I realise almost every inch of the cavern is covered with them. Alongside me, archaeologist and kaitiaki Amanda Symon grins. "Welcome to rock art central."
The origins of the taniwha and what they symbolise is a mystery that may never be solved, but you can find out how to make the black pigment Māori used to paint them at the Te Ana Ngāi Tahu Rock Art Centre in Timaru.
Burn some green branches from the manoao tree and catch the smoke in a flax mat. Brush off the soot and then mix with tarata (lemonwood) gum, weka or shark-liver oil, and oil extracted from rautāwhiri berries. In the 1920s, elders shared this traditional recipe with ethnologist Herries Beattie for "an ink that would stand forever".
While that may not be strictly true — in some cases, its traces have disappeared completely — hundreds of sites still exist around Aotearoa where you can see artworks created by some of the first Polynesians who arrived here more than 700 years ago.
So far, attempts to carbon-date New Zealand's rock art have been foiled, largely due to the originals being overlaid with grease crayon in a misguided attempt to preserve them.
However, some depict moa and the giant Haast eagle (pouākai), which is believed to have become extinct by around 1400, while the coming of the Pākehā is reflected in drawings of sailing ships and incongruous lettering in copperplate script.
This was no mere doodling to while away the hours on a rainy day. The time and care required to prepare the black and red ochre (kōkōwai) pigments suggest rock art was as culturally significant to Māori as other art forms, explains Rachel Solomon, who manages Te Ana centre (te reo for cave) and organises guided tours to Ōpihi where the taniwha dwell, a half-hour drive inland from Timaru.
"Sometimes you get these lovely big scenes, sometimes they're just small, linear pictures," she says, showing me some of the reproductions on display. Of all the South Island sites, only two are currently under Ngāi Tahu control.
"Most of the rock art is on private land, so the connection between the people and the art is broken, and the meaning has been lost. But we get in carvers and weavers [to share their knowledge] and draw on our own stories and legends. Ngāi Tahu as a tribe has started to bring all that information together. We look at it as a jigsaw now."
It feels like one of New Zealand's best-kept secrets that any rock art exists here at all. A total of 761 sites have been officially recorded in the South Island alone, although some have since been destroyed by slips, floods or erosion, or have simply faded away over time.
Artist Theo Schoon, who made copies of many of the drawings in the 1940s (while being one of the worst culprits for "touching up" the artworks), described the limestone rock shelters in South Canterbury as "nature's finest art galleries".
While Māori rock art — kā tuhituhi o neherā — is most prolific on the limestone of South Canterbury and Otago, it's also been found on greywacke, schist, sandstone and marble. In the Chatham Islands, images were incised into the bark of living trees.
The curator of the Ngāi Tahu Māori Rock Art Trust, Amanda Symon is tasked with identifying and protecting these wāhi tūpuna. "Because there's no means of analysing or delving deeper into it, from an archaeological perspective it's fallen through the cracks," she says.
Raising public awareness and engaging future generations play a significant part in countering that. A few kilometres down the road from the Ōpihi site, Pleasant Point Primary has adopted the taniwha as the school logo.
Symon says the journals of previous recorders such as Schoon and fellow artist Tony Fomison have been invaluable, "but because limestone is fragile and vulnerable to wind and weather, a percentage of the sites are completely gone." That deterioration is accelerated by changes in hydrology. "Intensive dairying and irrigation is not a good thing for rock art."
At Ōpihi, a positive relationship with the local farmer built over two decades has given the trust open access to multiple rock art sites on his land. Thousands of native trees have been planted as part of a major restoration programme. A paleo archaeology expert has also been brought in to fossick for bird fossils in the limestone crevices and take core samples in the wetland for ancient DNA analysis.
For Symon, it's not only about honouring the māna of the rock art and protecting the delicate limestone ecology but bringing life back into the valley. Already, birds are returning and eels have again been seen in the stream, which was once a degraded trickle choked with grass.
"It's so tangible, isn't it, because you're standing in the same place as the people who created the art," she says. "We're so divorced from the natural world these days, but back then, there wasn't that sharp line. They were embedded in nature. We're kin to everything you can see here — and you should have more respectful relationships with your kin."
The Te Ana Ngāi Tahu Rock Art Centre in Timaru runs guided tours to the Ōpihi rock art sites from November to April (teana.co.nz)
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