‘The only Ma¯ori things in my house were The people’

A new take on traditional tools began in the sandpit. By

CHANGING what Aotearoa looks like is child’s play, and it’s starting in the sandpit.

It was at his son’s ko¯ hanga reo that Dr Johnson Witehira (Nga¯ ti Hinekura, Nga¯ i-tu¯ -te-auru) first got the idea of making traditional Ma¯ ori tools to be used as they were intended.

There, even in a full immersion environment, all the tools used by the children to dig and shovel were European, something that struck Witehira as odd when

Ma¯ ori always had their own implements for that work. ‘‘The only time we tend to see Ma¯ ori design in on the walls as art. I want to change that.’’

Fast-forward a couple of years and Witehira and design engineer friend James Prier are about to do just that. The pair have launched Paku: a new take on timo and toki, the traditional agricultural tools used in Aotearoa.

‘‘Before our pa¯ keha¯ ancestors arrived we designed everything in our world. We designed our clothes, our tools, our vehicles, everything, and now for the most part what we’re often doing as

Ma¯ ori is decorating other things people have made to make them Ma¯ ori.’’

Witehira trained as a graphic designer before completing a doctorate in Ma¯ ori visual arts at Massey University where he explored how to include Ma¯ ori visual culture in a contemporary way.

‘‘I went from Western design knowledge to learning about

Ma¯ ori design and practice. It’s been a long process – about 12 years.’’

His works have since been installed in places like Times Square, Auckland International Airport, the Viaduct, and the Wellington Harbour lagoon. He coruns Indigenous Design and Innovation Aotearoa (IDIA) and Apo¯ po¯ , a Ma¯ ori creative tech hub in central Wellington.

Born in Taumarunui, Witehira grew up in Gisborne and now lives in Feilding with his wife and two children.

Reflecting on his childhood, he says it was bereft of Ma¯ ori design: ‘‘When I was growing up as a kid the only thing in my home that was Ma¯ ori was the people, and I think that’s such a strange thing.’’

Now when he walks through his own home he looks at objects – like a chair or cutlery – and wonders what they would look like reimagined; what it would be like – and have been like – to grow up surrounded by practical Ma¯ ori design.

‘‘The world around me would have looked different, but more importantly it would have felt

different.

‘‘When people think Ma¯ ori art or design they think patterns stuck on something and that’s often what we do – put patterns on a thing and say that’s a Ma¯ ori design. People make Ma¯ ori tools, but they do them as art objects – we should be using them.

‘‘I’ve got the same view of people making kete to go on walls in homes – you don’t see Pa¯ keha¯ making bags and putting them on their walls.’’

The toki and timu are very much not made to go on the wall. Made from brightly coloured, doubly-recycled material, the tools are designed to take a hammering whether they’re used in the sandpit or by adult hands in the garden. ‘‘We’ve been taking them down to the river and digging into banks and smashing them into rocks. They’re rugged as.’’

Essentially, this collaboration between Ma¯ ori and Pa¯ keha¯ is what Witehira wants to see more of: an Aotearoa designed through a bicultural lens, and the tools are just the beginning.

‘‘These are an extension of what our kaumatua made. We’re not geniuses, we’re just trying to bring that to the future. We’re combining Ma¯ ori knowledge with the most advanced technologies of 3D printing and fabrication.’’

Paku has launched a Kickstarter campaign to help fund the final steps of production. Witehira says any leftover money will be used for the next big idea.