Taimana Stone: Stitching the intersections of Māori and Diné culture
Photo / Neli Leota
A lighter clicks. A head of sage is lit. The space fills with thick smoke. Taimana Stone learnt smudging from his mother — a sacred indigenous plant burning ceremony to clear negative thoughts.
“We don’t want to be in a bad state of mind, which can translate into your work.”
The lighter clicks again, “You don’t want to wear something with negative thoughts.”
For the third-year Fashion student of Māori and Diné descent, this is a ritual before creating. He waves the sage over his sewing machine, designs laid on the floor, and a chair stacked with garments. Smoke swirls around his arms, circles his head, and brushes the soles of his feet. Gently, he lays the sage next to a pāua shell by the window and the smoke billows outside.
Through his work, Taimana explores what it means to be indigenous while carving a space in an industry that often misappropriates and exploits his native culture.
“There's a space and room for indigenous art,” he says. “Reclaiming cultural identity is a big thing I stand by.”
Intersections of Taimana’s life is scattered around his room. Above his Singer sewing machine hangs a ‘PROUD TO BE INDIGENOUS’ poster. In the corner, a toetoe is gathered in a bouquet. A painted Diné mother cradling her child hangs on the wall, haloed by family photos. A pencil sketch of an eagle soaring between the Navajo and Rangatiratanga flags hangs beside an orange-hazed photo of aunties he never got to meet.
These fragments of memory and culture stitch together the story of who he is.
Born in Nevada and moving to Auckland when he was five, his garment shows the intersection of two cultures separated by thousands of miles. Diné, or Navajo, are the Indigenous people of the Southwestern United States. Taimana finds mana from his Diné side, though connecting from afar can feel overwhelming.
Taimana is drawn to classic Americana menswear, finding inspiration in military pleating and construction. He holds up a jacket made for a tailoring class this year – a grey military style jacket with a scarlet lining.
This is a common theme in his work, with his project Navajo Code Talkers – American History using a classic American WWII blazer design with a Navajo focus. “I was looking at army silhouettes and wanting to put an indigenous view on it and try to change the narrative.”
Photo / Georgia Andersen
During WWII, the US Army recruited Navajo men to create a secret code for sending messages in the Pacific theatre of combat. While the Navajo language and people were being assimilated, their native tongue became essential for conveying vital information.
“It was an unbreakable code, since nobody could crack it, and it helped them win the war,” Taimana explains. Despite their heroic efforts, the Navajo code talkers were told to keep their work a secret. It was only in 2001 that military medals were given to the code talkers.
Taimana’s recreation of an American military jacket is a reclamation and stagnant reminder that indigenous history is American history.
Surprisingly, before studying Fashion, Taimana was working as an electrician. It was after a serious accident on the Desert Road he decided to change his path.
“I was like ‘oh my god’, I almost died doing something I hate,” he half-jokes.
Trading in a spanner for a sewing needle, he decided to follow his love for art and fashion.
“The truth is that if you really want to do something, you have to make that your main thing.”
Alongside tailoring, Taimana experiments with painting on fabric. He unravels a fabric canvas of a woman carrying a baby through red canyons, beneath the words ‘WALK IN BEAUTY’. The work draws on the Navajo blessing prayer, a daily affirmation of beauty and protection around us.
He’s strayed away from making art that looks at the colonial damage of the Navajo people, instead focusing on the beauty of being indigenous.
“I’m telling these stories in a way that doesn’t highlight the coloniser.”
Indigenous principles are a staple of his art, particularly around sustainability – choosing to stay away from synthetic materials and working with natural fibres. “I think it’s a very indigenous way of looking at what’s accessible and around you.”
Taimana pulls out another garment. This one is different from the rigid military menswear. It’s an intricate brown two-piece, covered in red and yellow panelling. The piece is inspired by the Kākā and his kākahu (Māori cloak). It acts as a connection to his Tūpuna and reflects the native environment and culture which form his way of life.
This is what he does, transforming fabric into testimony and fashion into whakapapa. As the last traces of sage dance into the air, clearing the space around it, Taimana’s work comes into focus. His creations are more than just clothing — it's a reclamation of indigenous beauty.