Clouds of dust and the dentist drill hum of heavy machinery. White dust cloaked shadow figures, some with post-apocalyptic breathing masks stand back to catch another perspective and then are head down, hard at it again.
An all-weather marathon art Olympics is under way at the third biennial Whangarei Sculpture Symposium this week. Forms appear out of great chunks of stone and wood. Elemental. A coffee bean. Jocelyn Pratt's work is a stone ode to society's addictions and the social aspects of a good brew. She sculpts a lot of seeds as symbols of new life and the ways societies change. A soup bone; wrought large and titled Unexpected Sacrifice, by Young Nam Park intrigues and hints at how the first cultural interconnections we make is through food. He's whisked off by the local Korean community for a meal.
Ethereal feather-light wings - in wood. Manic mayhem made into metal. It's like watching high priests of aesthetics conjure forms from the materials given them from the earth. Anna Korver, an internationally recognised sculptor from Taranaki, says this way of sculpting is very much working with the materials as opposed to conferring form upon them as you do with cast iron or glass. One of her works already stands along the new waterfront history walk - an elegant feather-coloured shaft bought by council at the last symposium, it takes flight like the prow of a waka into water. Her work has a weightlessness that belies the heft and weight of the materials she works with. The sinuous flow of the terraced hills in front of Parihaka, her current work, is waiting for a name. "I didn't name Te Aurere she says - a local woman did. 'She said 'I know what this is' and she named it."
Otangarei community leader Whare Hauwai gives the small person some off-cuts and lets her have a go. Before long there is a group of mini sculptors happily carving up the soapy Oamaru stone. He, along with Brian Mitchell and Damian Finn make up Te Kupenga Toi Roopu - and hope to "open the world of Maori art to everyone". Their work speaks of hearth and home and the crossings that take place between the inner and outer world. It's about remaining present with the land and knowing your compass points on it. It has a light lyricism; a beautiful blessing for any traveller leaving or returning to Northland.
The small person gives up sculpting and heads back to the car. "It's too hard," she says. On the way, she sees Anna still hard at it. She sits back down and carries on carving.
