Rita Macdonald is a local treasure; a custodian of treasures, a teller of tales; she is both a survivor and a saviour for others. As she nears her seventieth birthday people often ask her when she is going to slow down. But for Rita, bright blue eyes sparkling with the pleasure of it all, her playtime has just begun. Seven years ago Rita retired from 19 years as the Health and Housing officer at Housing New Zealand. Last weekend she opened her home and garden ‘Rita’s Rusty Rake’ to the public for the first of what she hopes will be many Sunday afternoons; afternoons in which she looks forward to sharing the fruits of her playtime with those who care to come by. “Everything is very old” Rita warns her visitors upon entry. As a lover of old things, I received this warning warmly, however describing just what awaits inside the gates of the Rusty Rake is not at all a straightforward affair.. To say it is filled with nostalgic objects or is an homage to the past suggests some kind of a museum display; staid, still and behind glass perhaps. No, that’s not it at all. Rather I would describe it as a collection of treasures; artful assemblages in every nook and cranny of every room, every corner of the garden, that act as a series of prompts for memories and myriad stories; some of them Rita’s own, some passed on, and some imagined. Rita grew up on Argyle Street, a street occupied entirely by Scots in the 1950’s. A rack of Tartan stands in the front hallway, her grandfather’s Highland Band hat sits atop a table and a photograph of the Gisborne Highland Pipe band circa 1975 adorns the wall. Her father stands in the middle row as the Band’s Pipe Major. Rita remembers him giving her his spats to clean, which she would scrub with sunlight soap and hot water before visiting Mrs Melville, a Sister at the Cook Hospital to ask for a little whitening to finish them off. When there was a wedding or some other celebration and her father wanted his pipes to sound even more sweetly, he would soak the pipes’ bag in a bath with golden syrup and wrap the reeds with strands of his daughters’ hair. Rita says she has always liked the old, faded and broken. “In rust I trust” she asserts, “because you can see it, it’s never hidden.” Over time she has collected and been given treasures to care for, friends asking ‘I don’t know what to do with mother’s cottons, are they any use to you?’ Rita with no other reply in her than “I will care for Mother’s cottons.” She has a simple appreciation for the work and care that went into making things before we started using machines for everything, and she extends that same philosophy to her own life and the objects in her care. She shows me her ‘engine room’, a sunny room to which she retires, when the events of the world become too much. Here she stitches wise and calming words that she might have heard or found in a book onto cloth with a needle and coloured thread. Rita nurtures her ageing chickens, Mrs White, Mrs Black and Mrs Fortesque Brown with cooked porridge every morning for breakfast and Chinese noodles on Friday nights. They roam resplendent amongst the garden, wild with rambling old roses, wandering nasturtiums, soft pink geraniums and cats. The vegetables valiantly hold onto their claim amongst the poppies and violets. A fairy house patiently awaits Rita’s attention after suffering some wind damage (or was it a particularly well-attended party?) and baskets of cacti drip from the trees. Vast fruit trees hold bucketloads of promise for the coming summer. To my fresh eyes the garden is a magical wonderland, for Rita it is full of memories. Over the almost forty years she has been there, people have given her “this and that”, often when they’re about to move into a rest home, knowing that she will save a cherished plant passed down through the generations from the green waste pile. Out the back of the garden is 'Anne’s Room', a garage converted to the little museum that her sister Anne had always dreamed of but didn’t live to see to fruition. It houses a collection of all the dolls Rita ever wanted as a child, as well as all of those that have come since. Not all of the stories I hear from Rita are happy ones, but as she explains it, Rita’s Rusty Rake is her response to the sadness she has experienced in her life. Rita talks about angels, certain “wonderful people” that had faith in her abilities and opened doors for her at the times in her life when she needed it most. In turn Rita put that faith to good use; stepping in and helping out where she could when the chips were down for others. And now, Rita the Resident Scarecrow, as she refers to herself with her sparkling eyes, is opening the door on her home and garden, a bricolage of friendships and memories, stories connecting objects to place and time, a little bit higgledy, with the odd bit of rust, a place that she hopes “people will love to come”. I know that I will love to visit, time and again. Thank you Rita for having me. What: Rita’s Rusty Rake is a cottage garden and collectables for viewing Where & When: 18 Clifford Street, Sunday afternoons, 2pm- 5pm. Cost: $5 per person or $15 per family. Proceeds go towards Rita’s homeless & prescriptions funds for local people. Story & photos by Sarah Cleave

Hiking the stairs of the old post office building, to the 5th floor, I wondered how we once depended so much on this structure for our communications. Pushing through the weighted door led me to numbered offices. Office number 8 held inside of it the precise measurement of determination and tenderness to deliver an important, and sometimes stigmatized moment, becoming and being transgender. Laughter rattled through office number 8’s door. I paused for it to have its full course. When I knocked, a warm and resonating voice answered keenly “come in!” I entered to a room of 3 people, all wearing wide smiles. Tee Wells, Tink Lockett and Jase, “We’re celebrating” expressed Tee, filmmaker and owner/operator of Tairāwhiti TV. Tee is non-binary and prefers the pronouns, ‘they/them’. They handed around a bowl of lollipops - these genuine and nostalgic offerings that would lend insight into the reason for representation of this project. This kaupapa is Transgender in Tairāwhiti, the bones of a 4-part pilot of documentary shorts, representing four people as they express their experiences as trans people in Tairāwhiti. The documentary will consist of a 10-minute clip for each collaborator, with each of their experiences portrayed through videography and photography. Transgender in Tairāwhiti consists of 4 diverse collaborators: Gio, Lesley, Nganeko, and Jase. The first collaborator on the scene was Gio, a trans woman, Tongan and in her mid-twenties. Through connections of Gio came Lesley, also a trans woman, Pākehā and in her mid-sixties. Undeniably, Lesley’s experience stepping into their truer self in a 1950’s Gisborne is unfathomable. From up the coast came Nganeko, a trans woman, Māori and in her early twenties. Finally, and therefore the reason for sugary celebrations, was Jase, Pākehā, early twenties and the only trans man of this kaupapa. The mana in the room was pulsating, Tink Lockett, a renowned photographer of nude imagery expressed her deep desire for fairness, “we’re all the same with no clothes on”. I mistook what Tink’s nude imagery meant. Off the cusp, I thought that her intention for nude photography meant that she was looking for sex appeal. I was quite wrong. Tink wishes to change body imagery, proudly extending an ambition to desexualize how we see our bodies. There sits a bricolage of diversity within this kaupapa. As previously mentioned, these collaborators hold their own ‘identity markers’ within each of their kete. Tee is proudly Queer - we both spoke of our experiences existing as ‘lesbian’ at Gisborne Girls’ High School. Tee has travelled the world working within film, also working with Māori Television and TVNZ. They have also developed some life experience of Queerdom both in Aotearoa and overseas in Australia and Cambodia. It makes sense that a Queer, non-binary person speaks to and captures the experiences of these people trying to navigate their way through their trans journeys. But what of Tink? Well, it should comfort you in knowing that Tink profusely checks herself. She’s very open in knowing her privileges and her status. She reiterates to me, “I’m white, I’ve got blonde hair and I’m straight”, there is something intensely trustworthy in Tink’s transparency. The pair met a few months ago after working with Queer Vocal Loop Artist and Musician EJ Barrett from Taranaki. When Tink found out that EJ was coming to town to film a music video, they tee’d up a time to do a quick nude-art photo shoot during *EJ’s visit. It was the video project itself which piqued Tink’s interest to make contact with Tee. Coffee and kōrero was shared at PBC, and the rest grew out of the 5th floor old post office building. Sitting now in this same office, I watch the two exchange the most fluid discussion; it unravels in front of me, and reveals this excitement of positive representation. I’m told of another collaborator, Chris Shotton, who identifies as Gay and understanding the need for this type of work, donates his time to help Tee and Tink. This project is nurtured in authenticity, with underlying values making up the very beams of this kaupapa. Of course, as is the case with most artistic endeavours, this documentary is being created off of the backs of these wonderful humans. The group wish to secure future funding to help tautoko the continuing movement of this kaupapa. Here at Gizzy Local, we’re fortunate to be welcomed into this space as it evolves. Further to this, we’ve been invited to watch, listen and ask questions of these collaborators at a panel, soon to be announced. * EJ does not hold any gender and prefers to be acknowledged by name only Story by Jordan Walker Images provided by Tink & Tee If you’re keen to follow this journey of Transgender in Tairāwhiti, give Tairāwhiti TV a follow on Facebook and on Instagram. More on Tink’s work can be found on her Facebook and Instagram pages.

Damon Meade is a landscape photographer, film maker and time lapse artist. A graduate of the Fine Arts programme at Massey University, he’s managed to crack that seemingly elusive formula for many creatives and has been self-employed as a full-time creative since 2004. Damon happily claims his home and his whenua, Tūranganui-a-kiwa, as the best place in the world, and the images he’s been creating and sharing over the past fifteen years or so certainly make a compelling case for that claim. It could be said that through his photography and his often lyrical written accompaniments, Damon Meade is one of the region’s most avid and far-reaching proponents of this place. Damon started out his photography career standing on the beach, where he spent a good few years sighting his lens in on many of the country’s best surfers. Even then, his gaze often wandered to bring the wider geographical context into shot. An appreciative eye and attention to sense of place are noticeable trademarks of his work. In the early years of his career Damon produced the surf films Wolfskinz (2007), Under The Weather (2013) and a number of short surf films including The Beaten Track (2015). He describes this as an inspired period and is proud of the lasting snapshot he captured; of what some epic local surfers were getting up to, and some of the remoter parts of the country, at a particular moment in time. There came a point however, at which Damon was ready to get off the beach and try something different. He had been playing around with photography and low-fi time-lapse photography and it was to these mediums that he turned his focus. As for the subject matter, he was heading for the stars. After a few years of experimenting with time-lapse photography Damon discovered how much he enjoyed the challenge of lining up celestial elements with familiar features in the landscape. Using this as his starting point, Damon has created a body of work that depicts our landscape in a way that hasn’t been done before. Many of Damon’s photographs and time-lapses are months in the planning, and certain shots he will return to, year upon year, with one eye on the astronomical calendar and the other on the weather forecast. Each mission yields new insights into the character of the landscape and so the intimate knowledge he has of this place he knows and loves continues to grow, as does the internal running catalogue of shots he’d like to capture in the future. “It keeps me fit and keeps me honest” he reckons. Damon’s creative perspective is far from limited to that which he captures through his camera lens. Often an artist will leave the picture to tell the story, but Damon isn’t afraid of adding subtext to the “thousand words” already told by his photographs, usually in the form of some kind of back story or commentary as to what is going on behind the mesmerising beauty of the photograph. When deep sea drilling was on the cards for the government in the early 2000’s Damon was unafraid to spoil his sublime surf footage with talk of what was going on within those very scenes, ‘Drilling ship arrives in Raglan area 10 days from now’, ‘It needs to stop’. As he captures our landscape from manifold angles, so too does he speak for it, from the state of our waterways, the impacts of forestry slash or the effect that the Space X Satellites are having and will continue to have on our night skies. There is an element of prescience in Damon’s work, by which we are called to recognise what we have in this moment, knowing that nothing ever stays the same, particularly when human beings are in the mix. Through Damon’s lens a chilly summer morning is ‘unseasonably gruff’ a cyclone ‘chews it's path along our coastline’ and even the wait on some decent surf offers opportunity for philosophical observation and a lyrical one at that, ‘a ruffled wind torn ocean patiently awaits the arrival of fresh new swell.’ Most recently Damon has tasked himself with the mammoth job of pulling the various strands of his work together in one place; an online print store where a selection of his best prints are being sold. The more labour-intensive astro-panoramas are available for purchase as limited print runs, alongside an open collection of prints. Time-lapse video, drone footage, astro-panoramas - the various components of his work all bounce off each other, they are from the same journey. Sometimes a time-lapse frame will become a wall print. Drone footage is accompanied by a still photograph from the same flight. Through many kilometres trekked around the bare hills and rocky coastlines of the Tairāwhiti, hours upon hours of checking the weather and keeping tabs on the stars, and a philosophical outlook on his work and our changing world, Damon Meade is compiling a stunning showcase of our region, which we think is well worth checking out. Epic work Damon Meade. You can check out Damon’s print store here Damonmeade.com And for examples of Damon’s time-lapse work check these out: Shorelight - A Time lapse compilation of the Gisborne East Coast In Our Corner Tuahine Point Lighthouse Under The Stars Uawa Moon Rise Story by Sarah Cleave

7am down at Waikanae Beach. A hushed morning preceding a warm Spring day. Empty apart from the occasional jogger and the rhythms of the ocean. A man arranges himself next to a structure of driftwood; he has organised for a photographer to come capture the scene. Adel Salmanzadeh brings an immense energy to everything he does. His latest initiative is Toi Rito – Art for Social Action, an accumulation of Del’s experiences in art, education, and development. The idea of using art for impact is not unfamiliar for Del. Coming to New Zealand as a refugee in 1989, he is a recognised UNESCO Refugee Integration through Language and Arts Affiliate Artist, having previously used art to explore notions of identity and advocate for marginalised groups. Del sees art as the ideal means to communicate important messages – it is fun, engaging for a range of audiences, and has the effect of sparking curiosity. Designed to be an inclusive endeavour, Toi Rito is less about hard skills and more about the act of being creative. Del asks, if someone went down to the river, picked up 50 stones and proceeded to arrange those 50 stones in any form, their name for example - would this be art? For him, yes and thus, every single person can be an artist. Toi Rito is the second chapter following his Prints for Good initiative, borne from using prints to raise funds for victims of the 2019 Mosque terrorist attack. Whilst Prints for Good used the one art medium, this time around Del has opened the floor to both different types of art and collaboration with different sectors of the community. Adaptable to different purposes, Del has chosen to align Toi Rito with the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), something he came across during his work in the international development sector. These 17 goals spearhead the United Nations 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development, the internationally accepted blueprint to achieve a more peaceful and prosperous world for both people and the planet. Such unanimity in the international development and governance world is unprecedented – but these are unprecedented goals. They offer a common purpose for the global community, with relevance for all people at local, national and international levels. The SDGs take on the most pressing challenges of our time, such as climate change, eliminating poverty and good health. As the name suggests, these are things the world must achieve by 2030. For something so monumental, they have been slow to capture the imagination of New Zealand. The crucial question then becomes how do we make society aware and knowledgeable about the SDGs, so that they might be better adopted and enacted? How do we connect the extensive knowledge this region holds and mahi already underway to the greater umbrella of the ‘sustainable development goals’? Del knew he wanted to be part of the solution to these questions. Through Toi Rito, Del is coordinating a series of 17 art workshops for the SDGs, each art workshop being matched to an fitting SDG, which are intended to be a way of communicating the goals practically and creatively to the Gisborne community through various art mediums. Taken under the broad wings of fellow social impact gurus Tāiki E, Toi Rito has found itself a home in Te Tairāwhiti, this ‘arty place’ feeling like the right fit for Del’s work. The series launched with a driftwood installation at Waikanae beach to raise awareness about SDG14 Life Below Water, which was meticulously arranged by the hands of around 30 people over several hours on a Friday afternoon. Heading down to Waikanae beach now, you wouldn’t find a trace of what existed there before. This is a part of the ethos of Toi Rito – the art itself embodies sustainability and treads softly on the earth. This week as a part of Tāiki E’s Entrepreneurship week, is a print-making workshop addressing SDG8: decent work for all and economic growth on Wednesday morning, followed by a workshop run by the Riposte Team on Friday around SDG9: Industry, innovation and infrastructure, with upcoming workshops including another beach art installation to draw attention to SDG15, hiwa āhuarangi – climate action. Of course, one man alone cannot run 17 workshops. Staying true to the nature of Tāiki E, collaboration is at the heart of this initiative. Numerous Gizzy creatives have been brought onboard to lead workshops that showcase their skills, endeavours and businesses. Kirsten from Puawai & Co, led attendees through bouquet making, and mushroom grower Mariska who guided a beeswax wraps session to encourage sustainable consumption habits. One workshop included a trip to Tairāwhiti Environment Centre for the Tāiki E pataka to get a makeover for SDG2 Zero Hunger. The support of Cain, Renay, the Tāiki E residents, and daughter and fellow artist Carmel have been instrumental in giving life to Del’s ideas. As if Toi Rito were a child, the village has gathered around to raise it. The SDG Art Workshop Series will culminate in a public SDG Art exhibition to not only advocate for the our community’s adoption of the SDGs, but also to demonstrate various ways that ‘art’ can be conceived. Bigger workshops are on Del’s agenda for 2021, as well as plans for a nation-wide release of 17-limited edition prints that speak to the 17 SDGS, paired with 17 poems and songs. The SDGs are undeniably big, big goals; unless ways are identified to make the goals attainable, they are rendered merely as aspirations. Far from being the government’s job, the SDGs crucially depend on the everyday, bite-sized contributions of local communities, giving substance to the notion of ‘think global, act local’. Toi Rito might just be one piece of the puzzle, but Del believes that it is these little things, when pieced together, that will pave the way to a sustainable future. Words by Lauren Turner. Life Below Water images X Tom Teutenberg.

Next week the Impact House, Tāiki e turns one year old. In just one year, it’s fair to say that Renay Charteris, Cain Kerehoma and their ever-growing crew have achieved their goal of kickstarting an aroha economy here in the Tairāwhiti. Their aims around creating a collaborative space for social and environmental action have drawn in a hugely diverse group of people to the premises on the corner of Treble Court. Amongst the people using and contributing towards the space are a mushroom farmer, a death doula, a tourism operator, innovators and an artist, people in data analytics, social media, tech, the youth space, Te Reo, podcasting and permaculture. Renay reckons they’ve become a UN of sorts too “We seem to be a bit of a landing pad for new people arriving in our community, who want to get involved but don’t know how”. She says that getting them involved in projects that benefit the region is the best way to introduce people to our community, allowing them to integrate into the fabric of the community through service and giving of their time, skills and selves. Next week is Global Entrepreneurship Week, and the programme that the Tāiki e! Crew have planned is a beautiful fit for the mahi they do, bringing together the key focus areas that have organically bubbled up amongst their members since they started one year ago. When it comes to entrepreneurship, Cain and Renay urge people to think about how business can be used as a tool to create impact and transformational change in our communities, so that it is about more than just making a profit. So next week the hive of activity that is Tāiki e! kicks off with an Open Day for people who want to get a sense of what goes on there and how it rolls, a Side Hustle Market, Self Care & Well-Being in Business session and a Start Up Crawl through the CBD, talking to some local business owners about their start up stories. Stuffed Up Night aims to provide a space within which to talk about failure and Fishbowl is an event to talk Food and Food Security here in the Tairāwhiti. As Renay says ‘Your vibe attracts your tribe’ so if this vibe sounds like a bit of you, check out Tāiki e!’s schedule of events for next week, and meet your tribe!

Why did the Pizzeria cross the Road? Well, in the case of the Neighborhood Pizzeria - it was to get to the other side. As of Labour Weekend the Neighborhood Pizzeria crew have gone from cooking pizzas in a shipping container, where they often faced crazy-making temperatures and only narrowly avoiding melting as concerned customers looked on closely, to restoring an old favourite haunt for many locals, formerly known as Cafe Villagio, just over the road in the Ballance Street Village. In many ways, crossing the road has also been a case of coming full circle for owner Marcel Campbell. Thirty years ago Anna Walker took on the task of transforming an old Stucco home into what has been known since as Cafe Villagio. Framed photos on the wall of the new fit-out tell the story of the group of village locals that gathered around to help Anna realise her vision for the original reincarnation of the space. At the time Marcel’s dad, Nigel Campbell’s pharmacy was next door where the bookshop is now, so Marcel’s family were amongst that crew of helpers. These past couple of weeks, “by the magic of Gizzy” as Marcel puts it, many of those original helpers including Anna Walker were back in there helping Marcel and his team get it all ready for its Labour Weekend Opening. Marcel also served an apprenticeship of sorts when he worked as a waiter for sister Amy and brother in-law Dave when they owned Cafe Villagio some 13 years or so ago, so after being in the Bay of Plenty for a few years, this is as much a revisitation of the past as it is a new start for Marcel. That interplay between the past and these new beginnings was clearly front of mind when I sat down with Marcel just 48 hours before Opening Night. Marcel likened the imminent Opening of the new and improved Neighborhood Pizzeria experience to the first few days at school, “The first couple of days don’t actually go that well” he said, remembering his first day at Central School, just a hop skip and jump down the road. He recalls not wanting to go; the anxiety of meeting other people’s expectations, and likened that to how he was feeling about the week ahead: “Everyone wants it to be amazing, they want it to be good, and I think it’s going to be - we’ve just got to get through this first couple of weeks or so.” When we spoke, Marcel wasn’t even sure whether they were going to be able to open that week “that’s how Gizzy it is” with the pizza oven - an Italian Stallion - requiring more juice than a residentially wired building can provide. Ultimately though, it’s clear to Marcel, his team and all of the salivating locals that had been counting down the minutes until our new Local opened its doors, that the ingredients for a good time are all present and accounted for.. Take a simple base of pizza, a great wine list, Sunshine Brewery on tap and an outdoor area with Gisborne sunshine and plenty of room for the kids to tear about. Add your toppings of choice: Sunday sessions in the courtyard, art on the walls, sexy lighting, dining beneath the stars, after-work drinks, cocktails, a fire pit, old friends, new friends, local yokels and you have the new and improved Neighbourhood Pizzeria experience, which is nothing short of good times. As one of the locals whose path home passes directly alongside the new and improved Neighborhood Pizzeria, I fear for the waistlines of myself and my family, knowing how favourably the prospect of pizza, beer and impromptu fun are going to stack up against the gruelling daily reality of having to figure out what to cook for dinner on any given night. However as was discussed on a balmy and buzzing evening at the Pizzeria last week, those ample waistlines are going to be more than compensated for by the kinds of community-building goodness that is set to go down at this new local hang out that we’ve all been hanging out for. Thanks Neighbourhood Pizzeria for filling the gap X Words by Sarah Cleave Photographs X Tom Teutenberg. Keep up with the pizza & cocktail of the week at @neighborhoodpizzeria on Facebook & the Insta.

I recently resigned from my job to look after my mental health. Just a few hours later I found myself sitting next to Sarah from Gizzy Local and somehow, in a brief kōrero, we shared honesty and understanding around mental health. After I left my job I thought life was going to get better, and then even better. But that’s not always how the story goes. I remember lying in bed, feeling physically incapable of getting up. I wondered how much water I needed, to replace the stuff streaming from my eyes. I felt groggy drunk with shame and inadequacy. The work I’d left was not easy by anyone's standards, but the incredible people around me were sticking it out, with far busier lives and way more on their plate than me, so why couldn’t I? I slid a prescription across the pharmacy counter and felt like I’d failed. Having spent the last 10 years managing my mental health without medication — through exercise, meditation, creativity and mindset education — here I was. Antidepressants can take up to 4 weeks to work. Yikes. It sounded like a very long time. Back in bed, popping my first pill, I read through the long list of potential side-effects like it was the menu at a really bad restaurant. Insomnia was the special of the day, with a side of nausea and dizziness. Slamming the door shut to the one place I could escape to, I spent 4 nights owl-eyed in bed while venlafaxine tried to rally the sad and sluggish neurotransmitters in my brain. Telling my flatmates (puffy eyed and wearing a dressing gown) that ‘I’ll return as a butterfly!’, I drove non-stop to Wellington to cocoon away with whānau and be looked after while adjusting to the medication. I manifested a transformation. It took longer than expected and I kept thinking “next week I’ll find work and get myself back together.” It didn’t feel true even as I said it. My body and mind demanded stillness and patience while wings formed beneath my skin. It was a few weeks before I noticed they were there and longer still for them to unfurl. Now I’m a full-time artist pumping things out on social media as I take on an art challenge for the last 100 days of my twenties. It all looks very “go-get-it-girl!” and it’s nice to feel and share the excitement. It also feels important to share my humanness and be authentic. The project was born from a vulnerable and challenging place. I’ve bounced back with a resiliency owed to mental health education, financial security, family support and no dependants. When I think of those among us who live with depression while managing things like poverty, family violence, drug or alcohol abuse and the responsibility of looking after kids or the elderly, I recognise the incredible strength in our community and how many unsung courageous individuals we have here. One day, I’d like to be as comfortable telling my boss I need a day off for my mental health, as I would telling them that I have a cold. One of the top 5 leading causes of death In Aotearoa is people taking their own lives and yet we are still not in a place where taking “mental health days” is encouraged, normalised or fully accepted. Are we okay with that? Sharing our stories and strategies helps reduce shame and shows how common but complicated mental illness is. Checking in on each other, normalising kōrero about mental illness and encouraging healthy social catch-ups (e.g. a hīkoi up Titirangi instead of a beer) are all ways that we can make a change. It’s no fun being swallowed up, but when the black dog spits you out, you might just catch the wave of your life. Words & Moving Images by Stephanie Barnett. Photograph X Ellen Taylor Find more of Steph’s work on Instagram @ stephmarybarnett / www.facebook.com/steph.barnett.77 Photograph @ellenmarytaylor

Now that we’ve all got a few early nights under our belts, it feels like a good time to reflect on the second year of Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival. Each edition has been deeply influenced by the circumstances of the year in which they were held. Last year the inaugural Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival coincided with Tuia 250 and as Tama Waipara noted, “everybody was exhausted. Iwi were getting up every morning to stand up kaupapa across the district” and emotion was high. The Festival was brand new, the tickets were cheap, and between Tuia 250 and the Festival there was a lot going on. This year Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival coincided delightfully with a return to Level 1 - a turn of phrase that wouldn’t have meant a thing to anyone a year ago. In this year so utterly defined by the Covid-19 Pandemic, TTAF 2020 in Level 1 offered the perfect excuse for us all to re-emerge and reconnect. Tama reflected on the “presence of uplift” as people came out and “reclaimed space after a period of anxiety, fear and worry with lockdown”. * * * You will not find an arts festival like Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival anywhere else in the country, as it is by its very definition ‘of this place’. Firmly rooted in Tangatawhenuatanga, it is place-based and comes from the knowledge that we are all culturally located. It is a space that has been claimed for our stories, in our voices, for our people. I have enjoyed the aspects of continuity from 2019 to 2020. Just as the Festival itself has settled into its own bones, so too has Te Ara I Whiti grown into itself, this year bringing the riverbank alive with barefoot kids in pyjamas and parents jogging to keep up. It was cool to be able to wander amongst the light installations and sculptures and be able to guess at the artists behind the works, knowing that through this platform and over time, the expressions of our artists become a recognisable and familiar part of our story. It has been awesome to see in ourselves a community which can and does engage with the arts, which shows up to theatres and other venues in droves, steps up and interacts as active participant when asked to do so; a community that floods our eateries and bars before and after events, who can and do bring our CBD to life when the goods are there on offer. It has been heartening to both observe and experience the flow-on effect of inspiration - the inspiration derived from bearing witness to, or experiencing the creative expression of another, especially when that creative expression comes from someone who looks or sounds like you, who lives in the same part of town as you, or who you might recognise from the farmer’s market. I look forward to seeing who is compelled to add their voice to the Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival stable in the future after experiencing what they have in this year’s offerings. Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival will be a potent force for many many years to come, in helping our community find its voice; its many voices, offering us the opportunity to understand ourselves and each other better. Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival also offers an important platform for our creatives, laying down the challenge, ‘What is your expression of this place, your place and your people, in these times? What will you add to this story?’ Words Sarah Cleave Photographs X Tom Teutenberg

Last year the production ‘All Roads lead to Ngatapa’ by the Rongowhakaata Iwi Trust played to packed houses around the East Coast in the inaugural Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival, and I imagine their follow-up production Tūranga: The Land of Milk and Honey will do the same. ‘Tūranga: The Land of Milk and Honey’ might be described as a contemporised version of ‘All Roads lead to Ngatapa’ with a new chapter and some slam poetry, audio visual components, puppetry, dance, mixed media and youth voices all added into the mix. It carries the weighty description as a piece of theatre aiming to propel our society into an equitable future. “Te Tairāwhiti Arts Festival - here’s a platform, we’re all artists, we’ve all got stories to tell, let’s learn about each other” Teina Moetara When the team first got together in August last year, there were no preconceptions as to what they were setting out to create. What they did know was the Tuia250 commemorations that were about to take place all around the country, had presented them with a task. The task, producer Francis Hare says, was to present another side to the dominant narrative of this country’s history. The story of the Rongowhakaata Iwi is not well known, except perhaps for certain bits that involve their ancestor, Te Kooti. Moreover, or perhaps because of that, as Director Teina Moetara puts it “we’re an iwi that often comes out as a bit contentious or with a bit of punch” so the group knew that in presenting their side of the story they would need to create something a little bit different, and approach it in a different way. Teina describes the contradicting, conflicting narratives that besiege every so-called history as both “the power and the beauty of it all”, which seems to me an incredibly gracious starting point for this task they had faced themselves with. Nevertheless the paramount consideration for all who were to be involved in this sharing of Rongowhakaata’s story was that “people would walk out from the experience with their mana intact”, including themselves. “It was a chance for us to share our story from our perspective. History has been told to us from another perspective and some things have been left out. They are heavy stories, but they’re beautiful stories as well” Marcia Akroyd While the Arts are intricately woven into the whakapapa of Rongowhakaata, the group’s quest to find a different way to tell their story led them to the very ‘English’ medium of theatre. Within this new medium however, the group utilised the ‘devised process’ - a process as old as Theatre itself, which describes a way of working, which is collaborative and improvisatory, and which Teina describes as aligning very closely to “the way we work on the Marae.” “As artists with our whakapapa in the arts, it’s all about the process - not just the content” Teina Moetara. In talking to all of the different members of the crew, it becomes clear that this approach to creating the works has been huge, providing both the starting point - the space from which different members of the group can speak their own truth - as well as the end point - allowing the resulting production to come together in a way that “people will walk out inspired and empowered, rather than belittled and scared by the history that we have learnt before now” The cast describe the process as enabling them to find greater meaning in what they create, because “so much more of ourselves has gone into the making process”. Actor Rahera Taukamo-Bidois describes having to prepare herself each morning to find the growth or learning in whatever will occur that day. She describes the process as “a Māori way of making”, where everything is done as a group, through wānanga, co-creating and making. “Whatever we make, whether it lands or not, may have triggered something in someone else - everything is a stepping stone. You have to be brave and build your confidence in yourself, even if you think something is dumb, you still offer it up, because it might draw something out of someone else” Marcia Akroyd Raiha Te Ata Hapara Moetara, another member of the cast, talks about the “intense moments” but mostly about returning to the room after those intense moments, “the work is juicy” she says, “it’s mean to watch, it tests and challenges you so much”. The upshot of using this kind process Rahera reckons, is that everyone has that “much more connection to the piece, and are able to perform it in a much more impactful way”. It is the constantly evolving nature of this way of working which has seen more rangatahi brought into the cast this year. Raiha talks about how important it is for her to be showing the next generation that ‘we’re not in that stage anymore, we’re moving through it. Our young people can be proud of our history and not scared of it anymore’. “This is about healing intergenerational trauma from the past. It’s important to heal that part of ourselves to be able to move forward in a stronger way” Marcia Akroyd Everyone involved in ‘Tūranga: The Land of Milk and Honey’ hopes that their work will encourage and inspire other Iwi to tell their own histories. “We are giving this as a koha to our community and if we can be an example to other Iwi, that would be massive” said Marcia. All of the cast also spoke passionately about the impacts of being involved in something like this in their own lives “through this process, we learn things we can apply in our daily lives, in terms of being resilient, vulnerable and standing up when something doesn’t align with our values”, as well as of knowing now what it feels like to be excited for a day’s work, and to leave at the end of the day fulfilled, “this is how I want to spend the rest of my life” says Rahera. “I think we are definitely changing the world doing this kind of mahi” said Raiha and I wholeheartedly agree. Make sure you check out ‘Tūranga: The Land of Milk and Honey’ on October 9, 2pm & 7pm at Lawson Field Theatre, the Rongowhakaata Iwi Trust bringing their stories into the light as a part of Te Tairawhiti Arts Festival 2020. Story & photos by Sarah Cleave.

This weekend just past, something a little bit unexpected took place inside a dimly-lit back entrance on Lowe Street. Until this Saturday night just past, this particular building had been sitting dormant for nine or so years.. cold and crumbling, silent and sleeping. On Saturday night, Steven King literally rattled the old girl awake from her slumber with his new Carrier show, ‘Patterns’. The old girl probably hadn’t ever really paid much attention to her floor before Saturday night, when it was shuddered alive by many pairs of feet, themselves awakened by what went on that evening, rendering the humble, stained and ripped carpet floor a dance floor for one exciting, atmospheric and rather energetic night. ‘Patterns’ was conceived by Steve during Lockdown in collaboration with his three machines; his Roland TR8 Drum Machine, Yamaha QY100 Sequencer and Roland SH 01a mono synth. Steve recognised the time was ripe for creating and, experiencing a certain kind of symbiosis between him and his machinery, he formed his initial concept for the piece within a day. When I first started talking to Steve about putting on a live performance here in Gisborne, he spoke of his desire to bring together an exploration of minimal composition, repetitive beats and spaciousness with a contemplative visual backdrop to create an experience that went beyond entertainment [1] and encouraged the immersion of the audience into the experience. For Steve, this first outing of ‘Patterns’ provided the opportunity to test drive his concept. It also gave him the chance to curate an entire experience in which every aspect was carefully considered and entirely intentional, from Campbell Ngata’s opening DJ set, whose choice of tunes lent a gentle familiarity and therefore some sense of normalcy to the sparce unknown space, to the choice of the space itself.. Steve talks of growing up partying in spaces like the Lowe Street one. But he also refers to the space as an acknowledgment of the origins of the music he makes, an homage if you like, to the grimy groundbreaking beginnings of electronic music; the reclamation of those disused spaces so closely intertwined with the sense of freedom expressed by the new, interesting and exciting forms of music coming alive inside them at the time. Using a vacant building was also important to Steve because “there are so many of these empty decaying buildings in Gisborne right now - we need to take back some that real estate and give it life, make it vibrant and do interesting things that stimulate people and get them excited”. For those of us lucky enough to experience this first outing of ‘Patterns’, the atmospheric location certainly added another layer to the visual package delivered alongside the audio, with its themes of decay and patterns; namely the particular pattern that we as humanity have been running the past hundred years or so, which is revealing itself to have been not such a great one. The visual compilation which was played in reverse, delivered a strong message of the need for us to undo what we have done. For an audience who has become well-used to their electronic music experiences involving a DJ and a laptop, getting to dance to a guy who’s making the music in real time just a few metres away, (and pulling in wonderful additions such as the cassette tape loop technique he’s recently been playing around with), it was no wonder that Saturday night’s audience showed their appreciation for the Carrier show in a big way. So while Steve had his own ideas about how this piece that he’s been plugging away from the safety of his headphones these past few months might be received, he wasn’t at all prepared the the outcome, which he describes as “a crazy thing”. He suggests that it was some kind of perfect storm in which the heightened excitement of a group of people brought together in a new space to experience something largely unknown, in combination with his material translated through an incredible sound system, created a lot more energy than he’d expected. “Art is designed to evoke a response, but you cannot control what that response is” Steve soliloquised, “and in this case the response was overwhelmingly crazy”. The last 20 plus years has seen Steven King move through many aspects of the electronic music scene. He has worked alongside many NZ artists including Pitch Black and the Nomad, audio genius Chris Chetland from Kog, and has shared compilations with household names like Trinity Roots and Fat Freddy’s Drop. King has released music in the U.S, Europe and the U.K and his music continues to be selected by DJs on European sound systems. He has been the opening act for international artists like Mad Professor and David Harrow - The James Hardway Quartet and has played to huge audiences like those that attended the One Love Festival’s and the Cuba St and Newtown Carnival’s in Wellington [2]. We are lucky to have Steven King and his musical talents in our midst, and we hope to see him sharing them with us again one day.. eh Steve! Story by Sarah Cleave. Photographs X Scott Austin [1] & [2] Excerpts from the Patterns event description written by Jo Pepuere.

For many Whataupoko dwellers, Ballance Street Village lingerers, and lovers of fine secondhand goods alike, this view of Ro Darrall and Doris in graceful repose out on the porch, will be a familiar sight. Waving out to passersby, receiving visitors and customers, taking in the gentle bustle of the Ballance Street Village on a good day.. Ro Darrall’s porch provides the shop frontage to her beloved shop Retro, a veritable treasure trove of retro and vintage goods from household objects to furniture, jewellery and clothing. The roots of Ro’s shop might be traced back to Ro’s childhood in Morrinsville and the many hours whiled away waiting and looking around the local Auction House as her mother, an avid collector of antiques, scoured the sprawling premises for elegant pieces to grace their home. When Ro left school and headed to Auckland, it was probably her grandmother’s influence that saw her entering the fashion business. Her grandmother liked to attend fashion shows, bought a new wardrobe for every season and put on a fresh outfit at 5pm each day, ready to face the evening ahead in style. Ro did her training in the Fashion Department at Milne and Choice, did a bit of modelling, was a Mary Quant cosmetic consultant for a while, and began collecting herself, “The op shops were fantastic back then.” Even then Ro would mostly go for objects from the 1940’s and 50’s eras because of “the design and the way things were made, they were made to last”. After a while Ro set off travelling, off to experience the ‘Shipboard Life’ for a while. The ship Ro boarded ended up in Italy, which was where Ro got off. Some few years later later, she came to Gisborne to hang out at the beach for a summer, and “that was it really.” During the 80’s and 90’s photography and music provided a colourful backdrop to Ro’s new life in Gisborne. For these she had her father to thank. Her dad had loved to make movies during her own childhood, and had bought Ro her first Box Brownie as a child. He had a couple of speakers permanently set up in the cowshed, presumably to woo the cows with Dean Martin and the likes, and was “always buying new 45s”. So in amongst raising two beautiful children Ro also used to DJ at the Gladstone Road bar No9, “up in the rafters” and brought in House DJ’s from the cities during the late 80s and, as I’m sure anyone who was there at the time will also attest, “the place went off”. Ro was also doing family portraiture, wedding and commercial photography and has also put together her fair share of shows on Radio 2ZG, The Switch and Tūranga FM over the years, sticking with her two favourite genres House and Jazz. It was after returning to Europe to watch her daughter Darnelle race at the World Rowing Championships in Eton, that Ro began collecting again in earnest with the idea of opening up a shop; a shop as it turned out, called Retro. Ro loves all the people she gets to meet and the stories she gets told about the treasures that end up in Retro - stories she then gets to pass on to the people who buy them. There’s a bit of sadness too though, which is the nature of the job when all of the items in her shop come from people cleaning out their parent’s homes or people who are down-sizing from the family home to a unit or residential care. More often than not, that passing of items from one set of hands to another represents the end of an era. To off-set that sadness though, Ro has plenty of local regulars as well as people visiting her shop from all over the country. Since Covid she says “it’s just like Christmas, it’s been so busy”. Busy with lots of people who just love this place, this place that Ro so clearly adores too. Story and Photo by Sarah Cleave

It was 4pm on a Sunday. The late afternoon sun was glowing gold, the sound of kids having a ball drifts over from the playground across the road, and from an unassuming garage came some sweet Sunday-sounding tunes from a stereo. Peeking inside, I spied a couple of what looked like bar leaners.. small tables waiting for a few Sunday arvo drinks perhaps? A couple of guys enter the garage and assume positions on either side of one of the tables. But instead of grabbing a drink they dip one hand in the chalk smattered over the table and grip the small handle at each end of the table with their other. The two men join their chalked hands in a loose grip and then proceed to roll their wrists around around in what I learn is arm wrestling warm up 101. John went to his first comp in 2014 and started the club in 2015. The club has been growing ever since, with about thirteen members consistently training at the moment, as many of them prepare for the upcoming Nationals. The tables inside start squeaking and I notice the six members, four men and two women, training inside ending up at some fairly extreme angles to the floor, table and each other. Heading inside I notice legs wrap around or push against the table legs, the other leg planted firmly on the ground. Sweat is beginning to bead on foreheads, the laughter and banter rise to match the volume of the music. Everyone’s got their favourite grip and technique; their best arm. It’s a whole body experience, I’m told. But mostly in the hand, wrist and forearm, not really the bicep. And it’s all about that initial grip. Sometimes you will know you’ve lost just by the feel of that first clasp, reckons Nuks, my trainer for the day. While arm wrestling is not for everyone and it’s not so well-known here, the New Zealand arm-wrestling scene is described as one big family. A sport that most often takes place in pubs, the competitions are unsurprisingly followed up by a good dose of socialising, and of course enough arm wrestling matches to ensure pretty tired arms by the end of the night. The Lock N Drop Club meets Sunday afternoons, and during the week the members do their own personal training. As I can attest after just one session with these guys, the club is all about teaching people how to arm wrestle as safely as possible. And as far as I could see this particular music and laughter-filled Sunday afternoon, it’s also about friendships, getting physical, a bit of banter and some good times. Thanks Darlene and John for having me and Nuks for all the tips! I’ll definitely be pulling them out next time I find myself at a table.. If you’d like to try your hand at arm wrestling, you can find Lock N Drop on Facebook here: www.facebook.com/Lock-N-Drop-Armwrestling-Club-1181556288580022 Story and photographs by Sarah Cleave