I Weave, I Breathe

Ka Raranga Au, Ka Ngā Au  

Words and Art by Nyle Turuwhenua (Ngāi Tūhoe, Scottish, Irish) (she/her) 

Mōku ake, he pērā te raranga i te ngā. Ko te waihanga noa nei ā-ringa te ara e whakarongo ai ki te ao. Ko tā ia whenu, ia tohu, ia nekehanga hoki he whakawhiti kōrero ki te whakapapa. Ki te whenua. Ki ngā reo ngāwari o rātou o mua, o muri hoki i ahau. Ko te waihangatanga te ngā, ko te manawataki, ko te oranga. 

Hūnuku ai, whakakotahi ai hoki taku auahatanga i te raranga, i te mahi tā, i ngā papanga, i te tārai, i te peita, me te whakaahua. Engari e ōrite tonu ana te kiko o te takune. Kei te hiahia au kia poipoia te tukunga o ngā mātauranga ā-reanga, kia whakatumatuma hoki i te tāmitanga ki ngā mahinga wetetāmi. Kei te hiahia au kia tōmene i te hiranga o te mana whenua. 

Haere tahi ai māua ko takune ki āku akoranga hei ākonga tau-tuatoru i te Tohu Paetahi mō te Toi Ataata Māori. Nā te whakapaparanga o ngā āhuatanga taketake me ngā ahunga hōu kua whakapoapoaina au e te waihanga mahi e whakamanahia ana te wā o mua, e kōrero ana hoki ki te wā heke. Tērā hoki te kitenga he wāhi tupuranga i ia hinonga, te haratau ake ai tōku reo toi ia ahau e aratakina tonutia nei e te mātauranga o ōku tūpuna. 

Anō taku māngari, nōku e 11 tau ana, kātahi anō au ka ako ki te raranga, i te kura waenga. I taua wā, kāore au i mōhio ki tōna hirahira ka pā mai ā tōna wā. I whakapoapoaina noatia au e te manawataki o ngā ringa, e ngā kakano o ngā muka here, e te aronga ngū i matea ai e tēnā. I te tukuna o mahara kia hoki, kei te kite au i tōna pānga mai ki te ahunga o tōku ao. Ehara i te mea he pūkenga anake te whiwhinga i te raranga, engari kē ia he take: he ara e kitea ai te ao rā ngā arotahi o te whakapapa, o te hononga, o te manawanui hoki. 

He whākōkī rahi te raranga i tōku ara hei kaitoi, e whakatauria ai ahau i tōku anō ao, i tōku anō whakapapa. Nā taku ako ki te raranga i wātea ai ngā ara hōu ki ahau e huritao ai ki tōku tuakiri me tōku ahurea, ā, e tārai tonu ana i taku anganga i te ao toi ināianei. 

Ka parangia tōku ara tūhura e ōku tūpuna. Kei te rongo au i a rātou e pupuri nei ki tōku ringa, e ārahi ana i ahau. Ka hāpai ana au i ngā whenu me ngā taputapu, ka huri ōku ringa hei waka, hei kūaha e tau mai ai ōku tūpuna, e kotahi ai tā mātou waihanga. Ka raranga ana au, kua korowaitia ahau ki tētahi maiaorere. Me he kōpū aratakinga. Kua karapotia au e rātou, me te aha, i aua auahatanga, ka tūtaki mātou i tētahi wāhi tē kitea, te kore ai e pāngia e te wā. Ka neke haere ngā whenu i ōku ringa, ā, kua kawea au e tōna manawataki; whakawhitia, whakawehea, tuia, kumea. Ka pau ngā hāora i ngā hēkona. Ka whakatāngia taku tinana ki te rongo ā-puku, ka maumahara ōku ringa ki ngā nekehanga kua kaumātua kē ake i ahau. Ka toai ahau, ka hōhonu ake ai, ka mutu, i te whakawhitinga o ia whenu i tērā anō, ka kimihia tōna wāhi kia hura rā anō ai tōna āhuahanga. 

Mōku ake, koia tēnei ko Te Whare Pora — te whare raranga. Ānō he wāhi tē kitea, he wāhi wairua, pērā i ‘te pae’, pērā i te tino aronga. 

He peka anō i tōku ara te mahi tā. Ki a au, ko tāna he kawe i ngā āhuatanga o te kaitiakitanga, te mātauranga ā-reanga, me te hononga ā-whakapapa. He rite tonu te kitea o ngā manu me te raranga i āku mahi, he tohu o te manaakitanga me te kaitiakitanga, he whakamaharatanga hoki mō ngā haepapa o tātou kia tiakina te taiao me ngā kōrero tuku iho. 

Mai rā anō au whakamānawa ai i te mahinga ringapā, me ngā mahinga ā-ringa i auaha ai tētahi mea e ōku ringa. E matea nei e te mahi tā me te raranga te whakaritenga, te toaitanga, me te ringa rehe. Pūriko ai ōku ringa i te waingārahu, nāwai ka raupā, ka haehae hoki i ētahi wā. Engari he wāhanga ēnā tohu o te tukanga, he taunakitanga hoki i whai wāhi atu ai te aroha me te ūnga ki te auahatanga. E uma kūkupa ana au i te whai wāhi atu ki Toi Whakaata, te oti ai i ahau te tuari tahi i tēnei kaupapa ki ngā kaitoi anō e ōrite nei te ōkaka ki te oranga tonutanga o ēnei hononga. 

Arā tētahi hinonga te hokihoki tonu ai au ko tētahi terenga mātātuhi kōaro maroke e tuitui ana i te reo raranga me te āhuahanga o ngā kete. Hei tāku, ehara te kete i te taputapu anake; he waka e pupuri nei i te mātauranga, i ngā pūrākau, e pīkau nei hoki i ngā haepapa nō ngā tini reanga. Ka panoni ia tānga hei whakaata o te raranga, te tuituia ai ngā whenu me te kāwai whakapapa. Ki konei huri ai te kete hei kupu taurite mō te whakakaonga mātauranga kua tuku iho i ngā whakapapa. 

I tēnei terenga, kua tōmenetia te kete hei taonga, hei kupu whakarite hoki; he maharatanga ki te oranga tonutanga, ki te aumangea, ki ngā mea ka puritia tonutia e tātou, ka tukuna hoki kia rere. He tohu tō ia tānga i whakairo atu ai ki te papa tānga mō te taumanutanga: te toronga ake ki ngā reo me ngā kōrero, me te raranga i ēnā ki te inamata. 

I te mahi nei, e ōrite ana te wāhi ki te whakamana me te pātai. Ka whakamana i ngā ringa me ngā reo i kaha te pīkau i mua i a tātou, i te uinga tonutanga: he aha tā tātou e kawe haere ake nei, he aha hoki tā tātou e waiho atu? I ēnei tānga, ko tāku he rapu i te tauritenga o te maharatanga me te pito mata, o te kete ka riro i a tātou me te kete e rangā tonutia nei e tātou hei taonga mā ngā ino kei te whare tangata. 

For me, weaving is like breathing. The act of simply creating, using my hands, is a way of listening to the world. Each thread, each mark, each movement is a conversation with whakapapa. With whenua. With the quiet voices of those who came before me and those that will come after me. Creating is breath, it is rhythm, it is survival. 

My practice shifts between and combines weaving, printmaking, textiles, sculpture, painting, and photography. But the heart of my intention remains the same. I want to nurture the passing of intergenerational knowledge and confront colonisation through acts of decolonisation. I want to explore the importance of mana whenua.  

I take these intentions into my studies as a third-year Bachelor of Māori Visual Arts student. By layering traditional forms with contemporary approaches, I am drawn to creating work that both honours the past and speaks to the present. I am finding that each project is a space of growth, where I deepen my artistic voice while remaining guided by the wisdom of my tūpuna. 

I feel incredibly lucky that I first learned how to weave when I was just 11 years old, back at intermediate. At that age, I didn’t realise how significant it would become. I was simply drawn to the rhythm of the hands, the textures of the interwoven fibres, and the quiet concentration it demanded. Looking back, I see that it completely altered the course of my life. Weaving gave me not only a skill, but a purpose: a way of seeing the world through whakapapa, connection, and patience.  

Weaving has been a huge catalyst for me as an artist as a way of grounding myself in who I am and where I come from. Learning to weave opened up new pathways for me to reflect on my identity and cultural heritage, and it continues to shape how I approach artmaking today.  

My ancestors pave the path for my journey of discovery. I feel them holding my hand, guiding me through it all. When I pick up the fibres and tools, my hands become a vessel, a doorway for my ancestors to exist and create with me. When I weave, I am held within a protective woven veil. Like a womb of guidance. Their presence surrounds me, and in those moments of making, we meet in an intangible space where time no longer matters. The fibres move through my hands, and I am carried by their rhythm; cross, split, bind, pull. Hours dissolve into seconds. My body relaxes into instinct, my hands remembering movements older than myself. The repetition draws me deeper, each whenu (strand) crossing the other finding its place until suddenly a form takes shape.  

This for me, is Te Whare Pora — the house of weaving. I feel it as an intangible, spiritual space, similar to ‘the zone’, like a total state of hyperfocus. 

Printmaking has become another part of my journey. For me, it carries ideas of kaitiakitanga, intergenerational knowledge, and ancestral connection. Birds and weaving appear often in my work, both as symbols of care and guardianship, and as reminders of the responsibilities we carry to protect our taiao and the stories handed down to us.  

I’ve always valued the tactile, the handmade, and the labour that goes into creating something with my own hands. Printmaking and weaving both demand preparation, repetition, and physical dexterity. I'm often left with ink-stained fingers, calloused and even the occasional cut. But to me those marks are a part of the process and are proof of the aroha and commitment that goes into creating. I’m proud to be part of Toi Whakaata, the Māori Print Collective, where I get to share this kaupapa alongside other artists who are equally passionate about keeping these connections alive.  

A project that I keep returning to is a series of intaglio drypoint etchings that weave together the language of raranga and the form of ngā kete. For me, the kete is never just an object; it is a vessel holding knowledge, stories, and carries the weight of responsibilities felt across generations. Each etching becomes a reflection of weaving, where whenu (strands) intertwine like threads of whakapapa. Here, the kete becomes a metaphor for the accumulation of knowledge passed down through generations.  

In this series, the kete is explored as both form and metaphor; a reminder of survival, of resilience, of the things we choose to hold and the things we must release. Each etched mark carved into the print plate speaks to reclamation: the deliberate act of reaching for language and stories, and reweaving them into the present. 

This work is as much about honouring as it is about questioning. Honouring the hands and voices that carried so much before us, while asking: what will we take forward, and what will we allow to fall away? In these etchings, I search for the balance between memory and possibility, between the kete we inherit and the kete we are still weaving for those yet to come.