“I am a collector of raw evidence.
And sometimes it is a bit raw. But it is real. And I like reality. It doesn’t terrify me.” – Marti Friedlander
This is not a show about a specific place. Instead, it is a show about shared origins and a collective disquiet. Our understanding of this world is increasingly uneasy. One could argue that our restlessness circles back to living in a remote outpost. But as was mentioned earlier, this is not a show about a specific place.
New Zealand is only one half of the story. The other half of the story emerges from an intricate mapping of stars and a deep understanding of wind patterns and ocean currents. The migratory patterns of birds. We are all cartographers; our paths are constructed from shell and blood. We are made from bone and twine. Even the waves hand over the reins to the rhythm of language. How beautiful the light from the moon when it is filtered through the water! How singular and clearly understood our needs are now that we cannot clearly see!
There are people among us who risk everything in order to pursue their dreams. In 1769, the crew of the HMS Endeavour anchored in Tahiti and watched the transit of Venus across the sun. Shortly after, they headed to New Zealand and became a mythical bird, a floating island, another point lost in the story of our shared origin.
The night ends. The mist evaporates. We are still on the other side of the ocean. There is more than one way we can be clearly distinguished.
The works are quiet, gently seductive and require some time in order to sense the underlying sediments. Still alone, but greater somehow. In Maōri tradition, the karanga is the ceremonial call used to describe the reasons behind a meeting of two groups. One atom bumps into another atom and just like that another, only slightly semi-related atom is created.
Works in this proposal feature but are not limited to: Debbie Adamson, Vanessa Arthur, Jane Dodd, Sione Monu, Jasmine Te Hira, Raewyn Walsh, and Selina Woulfe.
Kristin D’Agostino & Craig Foltz