View from my window: Dancer and choreographer Aloali'i Tapu

Aloali'i Tapu. Photo / Alex Burton

I have a beautiful window in my lounge that overlooks evergreen trees, and because we live in Waitākere, the sunset is always a special time. I can just cuddle up with my Mrs and we can dream up big dreams. We like doing that, talking, thinking, changing our thinking. We also realised that the one place where we see us living the best version of ourselves is in those daydreams, why is that?

But the reality is that I haven't been able to get to my window for almost sixteen days. I'm currently in rehearsal for my new show, Faces of Nature, that is part of the Pacific Dance Festival and, between rehearsals and teaching, there's not much time to stare out a window. When I get home, I get into daddy mode because I have a beautiful daughter who's 2-and-a-half going on 16 and she's my world.

It's cliched I know, but I do believe the eyes are the windows to the soul and, when I look into my daughter's eyes, that's another special window. Special too when that window closes for the night and she's off to dreamland.

To be honest though, there isn't just one window in my life.

When I was growing up in Ōtara, my window looked out onto the power lines. I couldn't imagine looking out on anything else because that's what I grew up with. Then I lived in Germany and most times it was during autumns and winters and I saw the colours and the seasons change and that was looking into another world too. It's important for me to always go back to Ōtara - my parents still live there - and just remember that view. It's from where I've come and in the same way, my friends come out to Titirangi so they can get a different view too. It all helps with thinking and processing.

I guess for me the reality is that my windscreen is probably my most consistent window at the moment. It's a space where I can both be still and on the move. I can talk aloud, think and reflect, and watch the world on the go. For me, especially at the moment, stillness is not necessarily about me being still. It's like looking at the water, one of my favourite things to do. The water can appear as smooth as glass, completely still, but we know it's alive, churning, changing underneath the surface. The water is still dreaming up its next future and I'm like that too. Sometimes, however, I can be staring out my windscreen and appreciating the view and thinking about absolutely nothing. I know some people might ask, "How can you think about 'nothing'?" but I think that men have honed that skill over the millennia and I can vouch for the fact that it is totally possible.

I've also recently let go of another window, the one that looks out on to an institutional learning space. I've realised that while teaching dance is something I'm truly passionate about, the walls, agendas and systems that accompany institutions just doesn't vibe with modern artists and how we work. I've enjoyed my time but I'll be winding up at the end of June and, who knows, another window might open up for me.

Seriously though, my favourite experience of actually looking out my window at home was during lockdown last year. I also got to go on walks with my wife and just enjoy the peace and stillness of living out in Titirangi. I wasn't chasing paper and I feel that that "window" of opportunity really helped me develop as an artist but also as a creative human who is constantly shifting, changing and growing.

I'm loving life and all the windows, it's good to remember there isn't just one view.
As told to Dione Joseph

Aloali'i Tapu presents Faces of Nature Mangere Arts Centre on June 11 and 12, 8pm-9pm