In this issue

1. My Artwork of the Week

2. Frontispiece

3. Song of the Great Cycles

4. On Matariki

5. Waiata mou te Ata-Winter by the front door

6. Fevered Mind Links (to make your Sunday morning coffee go cold)

7. Endpapers

My Artwork of the Week

In 2006 I turned my life upside down and left my day job to seek fame and fortune as a professional photographer.

I accepted an offer to go to South Africa and be an assistant to the great Canadian photographer and teacher, Freeman Patterson. It was my first big OE, and rather than pick somewhere safe like London or Berlin, I opted for the excitement of going to South Africa, a country I knew nothing about.

I visited the bank to sort out my credit card and get some foreign exchange. When she learned of my plans, the lovely Afrikaner working there stared across her desk in horror. What on earth are you thinking of? Are you mad? She then proceeded to inform me of all the ways I could die in Africa (some of them slow, horrible and painful) and how to avoid coming to a grisly end. Needless to say, I was a little troubled and undoubtedly nervous when I finally arrived in Johannesburg.

However, this wide-eyed Kiwi innocent walked out into the late afternoon of a smoky orange-yellow South African sun, inhaled the aroma from the wood fires and promptly fell in love with the country.

When I returned to Aotearoa some five weeks later, I was homesick-for South Africa. There was nothing more I wanted to do than get back on the plane and return to this vast, extreme land where life and death were two parallel railway tracks travelling side-by-side.

A wise friend, who spent many years travelling there to shoot big game, rang me up to see how things had gone. When I told him of this heartache for Africa, he chuckled.

"Ah yes, Mother Africa," he observed. "She's like that. She will take a piece of your heart and never give it back! Once she's laid eyes on you, you are hers forever."

I got that.

Mother Afrika had indeed reached her dark, bony fingers into my core and taken a part of me away.

And I was OK with that.

Africa is the Place of Beginning, the cradle of humankind.

And perhaps the Place of Ending if you're too slow or trip up.

Two years later, I returned.

I couldn't stay away.

We travelled out into the Tankwa Karoo National Park to spend a few days wandering together in the wide, echoing silence.

One morning Mother Afrika showed herself.

We had stopped for a small break to look around and study a horizon which curved away in every direction.

And then I saw it.

She had peeled her thin skin away, had pulled it back to show me the veins, muscles and ligaments moving below the surface.

Frontispiece

Atamaarie e te whaanau:

good morning everybody.

Back to the future

I hadn't expected to be back in Newsletterville anytime soon, thinking that this particular path had found its natural conclusion.

However, a lot can happen in a week, and sometimes endings are beginnings. So I think the theme of endings and beginnings will probably be what I'll talk about this week. After all, it is Matariki (more about that later).

Despite my belief (erroneous as usual) that it was time to move on, and given the door-closing nature of last week's newsletter, I was somewhat surprised to see three new signups for it. A sign? An omen? Perhaps.

Then some adorable emails came in. Quite a number, in fact, and forgive me if I haven't responded to you. It will happen in the next couple of days.

The messages all said the same thing: don't stop; keep going. Breathing Light is needed.

Some of the emails came from people I'd forgotten were subscribers, from afar away as the backwoods of northern Canada. Some of them came from people who have been following my writings for fifteen years or more. One person even gifted me a wonderful taonga (treasure), a karakia (prayer) she had written herself.

And I realised that I needed to get over myself, to recognise that small though it may be, this newsletter serves a purpose.

And that is enough.

I felt the meaty, sausage-fingered hands of Obligation and Responsibility resting on my shoulders.

So bless all of you for your kind and thoughtful comments.

I owe you all.

The mission will continue.

As a side note, I've had two requests to do workshops and potential photo tours here and abroad in the last week.

And Fujifilm New Zealand, bless them, is sending me down some loaner gear until I'm in a position to buy myself new equipment.

It reminds me of the beautiful quote by the American photographer Robert Adams:

Song of the Great Cycles

He Koorero. A Story.

The Originals had been there since the Beginning. They were the Ab-Originals. They moved quietly in and out of the interlocking realms, dwelling in the forests, mountains and lakes, at one with the One.

The Great Cycles turned.

Then the second wave came, following the net lines of energy encircling the planet. Arriving from different parts of the Earth, from different cultures, they wove themselves into the fabric of the land. They and the Ab-Originals existed side-by-side in harmony.

Theirs was the Way of Water. They were the Gatherers of Water.

The millennia turned.

Then the third wave of colonisers came, sweeping down the Great Ocean in their multi-hulled vessels, carrying their gods and warrior culture with them. They called themselves the People of the Land. As they settled and spread out across the land, the Ab-Originals retreated deep into the Forests and Mountains, taking refuge in their ability to step back into neighbouring realms. The matriarchs of the Water Gatherers locked up their most profound knowledge in stories and sacred prayers and waited for a time when it would be safe to release them.

The centuries turned.

Then the fourth wave of colonisers appeared over the horizon, arriving in tall creaking lumbering ships with billowing white square sails. They brought their alien technologies, religion and love of money and began imposing them on the land. The People of the Land also locked up their stories, their greatest treasure, and sat down to wait until the hands of the Great Clock of the Heavens had reached the Beginning of a New Cycle.

The years turned.

And then it was Time.

On Matariki

I'm very conscious that many of you beautiful readers are not Kiwis living in far-flung parts of the planet. Without the cultural references, it may be hard for many of you to understand what I'm writing about here. Kiwis may want to move on, but I suspect you may find stuff here you didn't know.

On Friday, we celebrated a new national holiday, known as Matariki. Frankly, it's a big deal. A very big deal.

Let me explain why.

We have plenty of national holidays (well, you can never have enough public holidays!). We celebrate Christmas, New Year, and Anzac Day, where we remember our fallen, our provincial holidays, and some mythical occurrence known as Queen's Birthday, a hangover from our past as a colonial outpost of the British Empire. But, until now, we have never had a public holiday to celebrate our unique cultural identity. And there was certainly a lot of excitement around what it meant and its significance.

Matariki (short for Mata Ariki-the Royal Face) refers to the Pleiades, which arise in the eastern sky Te Tiriti o Waitangi at this time of the year. While we use the Raataka, the solar calendar, for most things, Te Ao Maaori uses the maaramataka, the lunar calendar. The former is twelve months, the letter thirteen, corresponding to the moon's cycles. Matariki rises in mid-June, signifies Te Hau Hou, the New Year. Curiously, it aligns with the Winter Solstice. And, because the maaramataka is very significant in terms of mahinga kai, the planting, growing and harvesting of food, particularly the kumara, our native sweet potato, a staple vegetable, is a time for celebration. Now is the time when we stop, take stock, pause and reflect. And sow the kumara for the year to come.

Matariki is when the great atua (god) Taramainuku, captain of Te Waka Huruhurumanu (the celestial starship), comes, using his kupenga (net) to gather up the souls of those who have passed in the previous year and take them home to the stars. Thus it is a time for us to pause, take stock of what has happened during the last year, to reflect upon those who have passed and celebrate their lives. And, of course, give thanks for our life journey. Then, it is time to go within. Interestingly, while Matariki celebrates the rising of the Pleiades and it's a convenient way to pin the holiday to one day, the celebration lasts for more than a month. Iwi (tribes) in the West celebrate Puanga (Rigel), which rises some weeks before Matariki, while people in the east honour the rising of Takarua (Sirius), which occurs a little later.

Thus, unlike our other national holidays, Matariki reaches deep into our indigenous cultural heritage, to a time long before 1840 and the signing of Te Tiriti o Waitangi, our founding document, the Treaty of Waitangi.

As I mentioned, Matariki is a time for looking backwards and acknowledging the past while we look forward to the future. I wonder how many of you have found yourselves suddenly thinking of people you haven't talked to for years or being contacted by them?

Perhaps that is the real meaning of Matariki.

Kohitanga.

Oneness and unity.

Waiata mou te Ata-Winter by the front door

Winter by the front door

Following a hypnotic silverspirit thread north

and entranced by the warmwind hulaskirtswirl

of slowsway Pacificpalm rhythms

and a murmuring calypso sky,

of twice-daily tides gently brushing away the past

from orange watercoloured sands,

I turned my back on winter.

And,

like a vindictive junkyard dog,

it circled around behind me from the south,

shredded the last shards of autumn from the trees,

then pressed its bony head on pause,

to lurk in wait,

in pitiless blue-shadowed corners,

sharp-fanged air

and ice-edged steely-eyed malice

for the openpalm sunsong smile of Spring

to send it on its way.

Fevered Mind Links (to make your Sunday morning coffee go cold)

What is the Maramataka | the Māori lunar calendar? — www.tepapa.govt.nz

The Maramataka, which literally means ‘the moon turning,’ is the Māori lunar calendar, and is the traditional Māori way by which time was marked.

Sculptures at The Morton Arboretum Honor the Connection Between Humans and Nature — mymodernmet.com

South African artist Daniel Popper is expanding his collection of sculptures at The Morton Arboretum. His Human+Nature exhibition has been on display at the 1,700-acre arboretum since 2021 and will remain on view until 2023.

The human sensory experience is limited. Journey into the world that animals know

There's a vast world around us that animals can perceive — but humans can't.

5 Lessons Daido Moriyama Has Taught Me About Street Photography — erickimphotography.com

When I first looked at Daido’s work, I simply didn’t “get it.” His shots looked like a bunch of random and unintentional snapshots. The majority of Daido’s photos weren’t very interesting to me and seemed to be quite boring. However over time, Daido’s work has grown on me.

Physicists Finally Have An Answer For Why The Subaru Logo Has Only Six Stars Instead Of Seven — jalopnik.com

Have you ever been crossing a busy street and then suddenly dropped down to the tarmac because you thought a passing roach was the same one that stole part of your Fruit Roll-Up the other day, only to look up and see a Subaru Impreza screeching to a stop inches from your head? Sure, we all have.

Whisker-cams unravel the mystery of how seals feed in the dark — newatlas.com

Using their sonar system, toothed whales are able to zero in on prey in the pitch black conditions of the deep sea. Seals lack such a system, but still catch prey in the same sunless conditions. New research now shows how their whiskers allow them to do so.

Photographer’s Conceptual Series Looks Like Surrealist Paintings — petapixel.com

To escape the mundane realities of life, conceptual photographer Kylli Sparre has created alternative worlds filled with movement, surrealism, and serenity. Sparre’s work has elements of both surrealism and impressionism, and she blends them together with photography in a unique way.

60,000 Bees Recreate the Nefertiti Bust and Other Classic Sculptures in Wax with Artist Tomáš Libertíny — www.thisiscolossal.com

Tomáš Libertíny prefers to collaborate when recreating iconic busts and sculptures, although his chosen partners don’t join him in the studio.

Chocolate Self Saucing Pudding — www.thekiwicountrygirl.com

Everyone needs a recipe for chocolate self saucing pudding! This delicious dessert is saucy, chocolate comfort food at it's best! Serve with vanilla ice cream for the perfect after dinner treat.

The 2022 Creative Photo Awards celebrate the weird side of photography — newatlas.com

The Siena Creative Photo Awards is a little different from your average photo contest. Celebrating all kinds of post-production techniques and digital manipulations, this contest aims to redefine the art of photography and this year’s winners are defiantly weird and wonderful.

End Papers

Whew!

This newsletter has turned out to be an epic bigger than Ben Hur. Well, so it seems. There was much to talk about this week, and I hope you found it worthwhile. As always, I love to hear your responses via email (which can take a few days for a reply) or by simply picking up the telephone. Remember that if you do want to chat, you can text me, and I'll get back to you. If you're in Aotearoa or Australia, then my mobile phone plan allows me to call you back at no extra charge. Skype/Teams/Facebook Messenger is good too.

And am I the last person in the world to understand the meaning of the symbol on my new car, a Subaru Legacy? It would seem so. How truly fitting that Subaru is the Japanese for Matariki. Especially at this time.

Wherever you are, whatever you are, and however you are living your life, let it be one full of joy, love and gratitude. Each of us is a wondrous soul, a way in which IO experiences/her/itself. IO is you and me. We are an individual segment of a greater whole. Think about that.

Ka mihi arohaa nunui ki a koutou

Much love to you all