ko au te kete

Is the place where my weaving happens.

It’s perfectly asymmetrical, this physical orchestration of experience, the expression of knowledge, fibre and the dance.

Left and right, while separate and different, must unite in a way that honours and allows those perfect differences to harness space.

Whenu (weaving strips) extend outwards from the fingers and are interlaced in a rhythmic motion.

When I first begin to instruct my baby weavers, absolute beginners of all ages male and female, I start by describing the way in which mahi raranga happens in synergy with the body. A healthy body garners the best weaving.

The left hand need never cross over the right, the subordinate hand holds, while the dominant, weaves up to it.

The body, head and hands are God’s original loom.

It’s one thing to understand the production of weaving material and the creation of a functioning object, but it’s another universe entirely, finding ways to describe these physical combinations of movements to people, some of whom haven’t used their body well in years.

The words must paint a diagram, a step by step recounting of movements, a song with actions, texture, colour, light and shade. The learner must see the words and their hands follow.

It’s challenging merging these worlds, the spoken, written and ancient face-to-face transfer of knowledge in a way that brings the elements, nature, fibre and people together and re-orients them to the world anew, to a fresh understanding of life, identity, land.

I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.