Maori – pumau
English translation – ever
English adjective – constant
Chaka Khan’s ‘Aint Nobody’ <3
I am indeed,
scrolling through and
just liking shit.
Because I can.
Cos I love y’all …
well most …
but I can’ts focus on
I’ll be back later, later …
for a convo …
In the means … times …
heres what I can hear:
He takes your screams
Tangaroa Whakamautai ~ Maisey Rika, 2012
Tangaroa – [personal name] – atua of the sea and fish
atua – [noun] – god
kehua – [noun] ghost – spirits that linger on after death and haunt the living
#abstract #abstractart #abstractphotography #abstractlove #simplicity #macro #macros #maori #aotearoa #marae #carving #whakairo #kowhaiwhai #panels #manaia #tipuna #photos #photoblog #photographs#photography #kpm©
Homai to Aroha
Today there is more than 1 photograph. Theres 3. Cos I can.
Today, in Aotearoa … it is “Waitangi Day”.
The link above will give you the brief mainstream rundown of what this day ‘means’, the controversy that has surrounded it and those that ‘celebrate’ and / or protest it and the reasons.
I’ve done all of the above for a very very very long time.
This year, I’m Not.
I didn’t vote this last election. The short reason is: there is No point.
And that is how I feel about Waitangi this year. It isn’t a cause for celebration. Our protests aren’t heard and if anything our actions are used against us.
I am over it.
I noticed a while ago that even though I had taught my kids the basics regarding the Treaty of Waitangi and the Crown breaches … there was still large gaps in their knowledge. So a few years ago I decided, that instead of actively protesting, I’d teach my kids and mokos about what Waitangi Day was really about. But they weren’t interested. Well, not really. They’re still young enough to believe colonisation isn’t really applicable in their worlds.
So this year … I am recalibrating.
The photographs above are macros of our Tino Rangatiratanga Flag. It has been through many protests and events and Waitangi Days … and at every one of them, this flag has been flown with pride and protest.
But like Me, this year, it’s tired.
I’m tired of wasting my voice yelling @ the Crown when the Crown does not give a shit about tangata whenua.
Never Have. Never Will. History tells Us that much.
Like most things in my life at the moment though, I need to find my ‘new norm’. I know it no longer includes teaching or tolerating ignorant racists: both brown and white. They’re not interested in hearing or learning or de-stabilising the systems put in place by their ancestors. They are only interested in gaining more of privilege that those systems have afforded them. My fight with them is done. I won’t do it anymore.
Today these macros represent every staunch stand we’ve made; every tear we’ve cried; every spine tingling challenge we’ve given … every crease, every tear, every stain … they’re all laid bare today as my focus changes.
Homai to Aroha
This was my view today … wtf I hear you say ;)
RomiRomi. Like deep tissue massage with large wooden implements … but worse lol.
I hurt like a bitch but I figure it won’t kill Me, right ;)
Mindfulness? Meh … I don’t know if it’s mindful or not … but it is what it is today.
First Published on: Jun 28, 2015 @ 19:07
A pikorauru (double spiral) pattern carved into wood <3
#meme is a tweet that reads:
Excellent questions from the wallow my daughters classroom:
Always ask yourself:
Who writes the stories?
Who benefits from the stories?
Who is missing from the stories?
Homai to Aroha
Completely random: but this caught my eye today. It’s been awhile since I’ve even really taken notice of this. Although I’ve photographed this piece before, I don’t think I’ve done it in a macro.
His curves and lines were a complete mind and body fuck when I was learning how to do whakairo, and although it’s not really my forte (not without some more serious learning ;) ); you do come to appreciate the skill that it takes to direct a chisel along the grains of wood without completely mangling it.
His eye is made from paua shell, and as all good manaia should do:
He watches over Me.
What’s The Time Mr Wolf ~ South Side of Bombay, 1992
Guess what niggahs …
“I” am not Now,
nor have I ever been,
part of the “We”.