Tā Moko artists featured at a symposium at Te Puia in Rotorua discuss their perspectives on the art form - past, present and future.
Draped in a blanket and supported by whānau holding her hands and surrounding her with aroha, Tatiana Kiwi-Knight lies still and peaceful. The wāhine artist working on her etches the design that tells the young mum’s story on to her chin as she cups her face. A crowd gathers to observe this intimate moment, which once complete will draw a collective wave of emotion through the space. She has followed in the footsteps of generations before her; she has received her moko kauae.
Tatiana Kiwi-Knight received her moko kauae surrounded by whānau. Photo / Andrew Warner
Thanks to the dedicated efforts of a dynamic group of artists and activists passionate about reclaiming the practice of tā moko, the sacred art of skin marking has experienced a powerful revitalisation over the past 40 years. With more Māori, like Breakfast host Jenny-May Clarkson embracing their birthright, the movement continues to grow.
The ancient taonga (treasure), whose roots are woven in legend, was nearly extinguished in part by the early colonial trade in mokomōkai [tattooed heads] by the late 19th century, which placed Māori bearing the art form in danger.
One of the few wāhine at the forefront of the revival movement was artist Julie Paama-Pengelly. Now based out of Art & Body Creative Studio in Mount Maunganui, she says it was challenging as a young woman.
Describing her younger self as a quiet observer, she acknowledges it helped being married to a moko artist and that by “earning her stripes and becoming confident in being vocal for women” she found her place.
Recalling the early days of the movement as dynamic and exciting, Paama-Pengelly says the collective approach was strategic.
“It was a conscious decision to come together and be part of a big discourse, and do it as a team … because then people would listen.”
Paame-Pengelly explains how her journey as a tā moko artist began long before she picked up a tattooing machine in the late 80s.
“I probably started in the late 70s because that’s when [I started] consciously gathering the knowledge.”
The multidisciplinary artist says she had an “epiphany” as an art student when she realised there was a difference between the “Western form of art [that was being pushed], and moko as a language that is connected to the whole gamut of identity, or existence”.
Part of the collective who ignited a revival of tā moko, Mount Maunganui artist Julie Paama-Pengelly trains up-and-coming wāhine artists as part of her mahi. Photo / Andrew Warner
Despite what she describes as gender-specific challenges to women in the movement such as traditional gender roles, having children, and balancing life with learning the reo and doing the research, the major thing that drove her was the importance of the mahi.
“Once you’re in there, you’re like, this is the difference between reality and life and death of our people.”
Paama-Pengelly has witnessed an evolution in her and other women’s work to form a “feminine style” influenced by what women are talking about and what concerns them.
“It’s definitely not a diluted style … it’s still full-on!”
She describes moko kauae as intuitive with a lot of variation as it’s based on what the kaiwhiwhi (recipient) shares with the artist about who they are, what they do, and where they are in their family.
Training the next generation of wāhine tā moko artists is an important part of helping women speak up about what matters to them.
Looking back over 30 years of revival, she sees great progress. The art form is alive again, but she says it’s a double-edged sword as she now feels a responsibility to continue making change “because Māori aren’t out of the woods” in terms of health statistics, “how we feel about ourselves, and how other people treat us”.
Tā moko is a sacred art, a taonga - different in many ways from Western tattooing.
Paama-Pengelly likens it to “going to church”, kaiwhiwhi have described the process as spiritual, and Rotorua-based artist Te Wehi Preston calls it a “living, breathing art form”.
Practising for more than 16 years, Preston says he’s still in his early stages of moko, and is always learning and evolving.
One of the organisers of many Moko Ora Wānanga held over the past four years for artists from all over the motu, Preston was involved with the creation of the M.O.K.O., Me Ora, Ka Ora symposium held at Te Puia in Rotorua over two days late last month.
Created to celebrate moko and those who have paved the way for its revitalisation, the event also looked at how best to maintain the integrity of the taonga for future generations.
Hundreds of artists and learners listened to key speakers and had the opportunity to receive moko.
Activist and tā moko proponent Tāme Iti received more taonga at the M.O.K.O., Me Ora, Ka Ora symposium in Rotorua. Photo / Andrew Warner
Preston says moko is much more than just inking and credits an uncle with teaching him that it’s “99 per cent tikanga, reo, and stories” and only 1 per cent the act of applying tā moko.
“It’s about learning the patterns, and the designs, their genealogy, and how you can use them to tell stories.”
Preston says the patterns are derived from Māori worldview, the landscape, the whenua, and the skies. He says it’s important for artists to first understand where they come from to develop them further.
Image 1 of 7: Tuscany Hale at the M.O.K.O., Me Ora, Ka Ora symposium held at Te Puia in Rotorua. Photo / Andrew Warner
The practical side of the process also differs from Western tattooing in that the kaiwhiwhi comes to the artist without a preconceived concept of what they want. What they do bring is their story.
“The unique thing about moko and why everyone loves it is because it’s unique to that person’s story.”
Preston highlights how ancestors would use the art form to retain stories, and that without one it’s just a pretty picture: “The most important part is the story it tells.”
This ensures each moko is different, even if they appear similar.
Artist Poutu Puketapu is laser-focused as he works on Haoro Hond, one of many kaiwhiwhi (recipients) during the M.O.K.O., Me Ora, Ka Ora symposium. Photo / Andrew Warner
Preston says a lot of trust is required with the art of tā moko, and people do get “freaked out” that there’s no actual pattern or design created before starting the work. It is from kōrero with the kaiwhiwhi that the story comes to the artist.
“If the pressure of listening and trying to understand the [kaiwhiwhi’s] story isn’t enough … you’ve got to come up with a design in a short amount of time, and then actually tattoo it into the skin.”
He says it’s a big responsibility requiring a clear head and a “good karakia”.
‘Am I Māori enough?’
It’s been a vulnerable and spiritual journey for Jenni-Lee Reardon who will receive her moko kauae in May. She felt it was driven by ego when she first considered it 20 years ago, so she “parked” the idea.
Throughout the years, her lack of fluency in the reo made her question “am I Māori enough?” to wear the markings. It wasn’t until learning the traditional healing arts of rongoā mirimiri and romiromi that she felt her language was through her “hands of healing”, and became comfortable proceeding with her moko kauae journey.
Reardon now views moko kauae as her birthright as a wāhine Māori. Receiving hers will be a gift to her children and mokopuna as she will be remembered not only for who she is, but for the markings she will carry with pride.
It's been a vulnerable and spiritual journey for Jenni-Lee Reardon but come May, she will receive her moko kauae. Photo / Alex Cairns
The Mount Maunganui local says moko is quite different to a tattoo, and it is a journey of courage “because I become answerable out there to be authentic”.
It was important to the mother of two adult daughters that she receive her moko kauae from a female artist, as she says she carries a lot of male energy having been raised in a predominantly male whānau and having worked alongside mainly men.
“It’s really important for me to have feminine spirit with me … this very feminine, very strong [spirit].”
A series of “serendipitous” events have assured Reardon the time is right. A weekend away with trusted friends who encouraged her, a similar kōrero during a walk on Mauao, a long-awaited confirmation letter from her chosen artist offering her a date that happened to be a day after the start of her annual leave, and even an invitation for this interview all helped her feel settled in her choice.
‘Eternally grateful’
Serendipity may also have played a part in the timing of Rotorua’s Tatiana Kiwi-Knight receiving her moko kauae at the symposium at Te Puia, but the decision to have it done had already been firmly made.
Having planned to travel to artist Anikaaro Harawira’s studio Niwareka with her mum, she felt it must “really be meant to be” when she learned the Kaitāia-based artist would be in Rotorua at the wānanga.
Kiwi-Knight said it meant “everything” to her to be surrounded by extended whānau and “most importantly” her tamariki, and having it done at the symposium with its hopeful kaupapa was “very special”.
Surrounded by whānau and aroha, Tatiana Kiwi-Knight receives her moko kauae from artist Anikaaro Harawira. Photo / Andrew Warner
After years spent “everywhere and anywhere else” searching for who she was, the mum-of-two moved back to Rotorua 10 years ago, and says it wasn’t long before she realised what she’d been searching for was there and in her whakapapa Māori.
Now studying full immersion te reo at He Kāinga Mō re Reo, and wanting her moko kauae to be with her throughout the learning journey, Kiwi-Knight says it’s like she’s “always had her” and is “eternally grateful to those who fought for our language and culture to get us to this point”.
Image 1 of 13: Tatiana Kiwi - Knight enjoys a moment with her whānau after recieving her moko kauae from artist Anikaaro Harawira from Niwareka studio at the symposium. (l-r) son Tāniko, husband Tom Knight and daughter Taika. Photo / Andrew Warner
Looking back to move forward
Tohunga tā moko (expert tā moko artist) Mark Kopua says he’s seen a lot of progress in the 35 years since he was part of the genesis of change.
“Back in those times, there were probably nine or 10 artists that had the background to carry the knowledge and the tools to do the job.”
One of the key speakers at the symposium in Rotorua, Kopua says there have been great inroads made as he references the 100 or so artists attending the wānanga “sitting in there listening to the original nine”.
One of the original tohunga tā moko (experts) Mark Kopua has seen a lot of progress in the revitalisastion of the art form over the past 35 years. Photo / Andrew Warner
Speaking about the early days of the revival, he says “I was very, very fortunate to be able to learn [from] two brothers whose father was the very last of the experts from our tribal region” and that he gained “a lot of clarity when it came to what the symbols meant, where they [came] from.”
It was this knowledge, he says, that gave the collective the confidence to push some “pretty hefty boundaries” and to be “confident and brave”.
He hopes tā moko will live on, and that the art form and those carrying it will not have to endure further struggle.
Catherine Sylvester is a multimedia journalist at the Bay of Plenty Times and Rotorua Daily Post. She has a background in feature writing, radio and television, and has taught media at a tertiary level.
