Watch the stars – we navigate points of light in the dark

An artist of many forms. Huka speaks of all the things that are near and dear to Me.

For More of their writings and art, please visit “huka can haka”.


“Whakapapa helps Māori people keep memories alive over aeons, through practices of re-storying our lives. Through whakapapa, I am always able to locate myself at the core of my accumulated experiences, even though at times I can feel fragmented and disoriented. Whakapapa resists marginalisation and centres identity, because I can see the ‘today’ of my life through the lens of many generations – I can see the bigger picture. Te Ātiawa, Ngāti Māhanga and Ngāti Māhanga ā Tairi activist and social theorist Leonie Pihama asserts whakapapa as an analytic tool, employed by Māori to understand how we relate in the world . Whakapapa connects Māori to every aspect of existence – when I make art I use whakapapa to re-image lived experiences of marginality many different (but also the same) globalised contexts.”

huka can haka

Whakapapa is generally translated as genealogy, although can be understood in many different ways. Whakapapa can mean to lie flat, to place in layers, to recite in order; or considered in parts as ‘whaka’ – cause to be, to become; and ‘papa’ which can mean – the Earth, or anything broad flat and hard. In te reo Māori ’papa’ has many meanings associated with ideas of ground, site and layer. Papatūānuku, often shortened to Papa, is the female personification of Earth. The word ‘kaupapa’ can mean the woven foundation for a cloak and has the figurative meaning of a platform or purpose. ‘Whakapapa’ has a literal meaning of placing things in layers. That extends figuratively to reciting genealogical links in their proper order and from there to the word for ‘genealogy’.

Whakapapa is a critical cultural foundation for understanding who you are, where you come from, where and who…

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featured artist: Darcy Nicholas

Darcy Nicholas is a Contemporary Maori Artist from Aotearoa (New Zealand). His artistry, I would describe as indigenous and deeply personal.

Described as: “Born in Waitara, Taranaki, New Zealand – Darcy Nicholas has been actively involved in the contemporary Maori art movement since the late 1960’s. He has exhibited throughout New Zealand, Australia, Africa, United States, France, India, Britain, Germany, Netherlands, and Canada.”

To find more of his Artistry please go to:


different way of seeing. 2001.

#throwback Jul 30, 2015 @ 22:37

It took about 10 months for my hair to completely fall away. In the mean time, with not much to lose, I decided to try ‘alternative treatment’. The best was a homeopath I’d found that treated a friend’s son, who had severe Cerebral Palsy. I learnt a lot about my body, about what effects it, about how much it could take. Treatment took a long time, which I guess is whats frustrating about alternative treatments. We are so used to the instant fix.

The friends with the ‘little man with CP’, went to the same church as I did. She struggled a lot with the whole religious notion that if they just believed a bit harder, had faith a bit harder, prayed a bit harder… then their son would come right. Oh and the – what sin did they commit to have a child born in that condition.

As my hair was starting to grow back, this family decided to go to Samoa to see Benny Hinn…the Christian healer dude. And they decided to take me along with them…if I wanted to go. So I did.

Our little man with CP didn’t regain his sight, or walk, or talk after the Benny Hinn healing concert thingy…but we, I learnt something else, that’s been invaluable, and started me on a route that I guess I was always destined for. A route that eventually steered me away from the church and ethnocentric religion…religion actually. And put me on the journey that I’m still on really.

In Samoan culture, those that are born with what western culture labels as a ‘disability’, like our little man with CP…they aren’t considered disabled as such. It was hard to understand what they were trying to tell us as we didn’t speak the language…but actions always speak louder, way louder than wordy explanations. So let me explain what they did…

When we arrived in Samoa, they, the people…those at the airport, the hotel…stared at us. We presumed, as you do, that they were judging us…

The following day in town, they stared some more. A lot actually. And unashamedly. We went into the bank and they all moved aside, waved and gestured at us to lean against the wall. It was cooler there…the bank had air conditioning.

Then we went to McDonald’s and they stared again, and did the same thing, gesturing at the wall…they gave us ice cream. Ladies came with a fan and started fanning our little man with CP. Then his mother, she was pregnant.

Then we went to stay at another residence, not the motel. She fed us. Gave us her bed, rooms…anything we needed. Our little man with CP was fanned and given a bed that would accommodate his needs…and keep him cool.

The following night we went to Benny Hinn. They stared. And then as we were walking in, with the hundreds of locals who had come from all over Samoa to see this man…they moved aside. As we got to our seats, the row of people in front of us, moved all the chairs so we could get the push chair through. Then an older lady put her blanket on the ground and waved for everyone else to move out-of-the-way. Then she took our little man with CP, out of his pushchair car seat thing, and laid him on the blanket and sat down on the ground next to him and fanned him with her large fan. Then another older lady did the same. They did that the entire concert thingy. Taking turns to fan him, make him comfortable, making sure he wasn’t hot.

They treated our little man with CP, like an absolute prince…king really. And that treatment continued right throughout the rest of our visit to Samoa. I’d never seen or experienced anything quite like it before. Maori culture is similar, hospitality wise…but this was a whole new level.

What I learnt was that they didn’t see a ‘disability’ as a disability. They saw our little man with CP as someone extremely special…like we did, but different. It wasn’t a forced or sympathetic admiration of him…but a reverence of the gift that he was. The lady we stayed with explained it the best she could to us. She didn’t understand how ‘we’ or the culture we came from, couldn’t see it any other way than how they did. How right she was.

And this type of ‘treatment’ or view of those that are ‘different’ didn’t just extend to those with ‘disabilities’. Their ‘transgender’ persons are viewed exactly the same way. They are completely integrated within their culture and revered for their way of being. They aren’t gawked at, or tsked…they don’t even turn a head. Is was a beautiful thing to watch.

The only critical thing they had to say to me…was that I was to skinny lol. In their culture, the more voluptuous you are the better. It means that you have enough food and are wealthy…sort of :) They didn’t even notice the remnants of my bald patches. It was the first time in about a year and a half that I hadn’t worn a hat or scarf. It was great.

When we came back to our country…the people in the airport, they stared at us. Then looked away real quick.

Back home, I decided we needed to move out-of-town and to the country. My oldest girl was getting angry…with everything. She had started jumping out the window at night and would be gone for days. I’d spend days trying to find her and when I did, there’d be 2 or 3 days worth of trying to get her to talk and unravel. She was angry…with me…her father…with moving…with life. So part of the move was to keep her from taking off. It worked.

I started working part-time as a cleaner and voluntary work for an organisation that did rehabilitation and reintegration of incarcerated peeps. New experience, being on the other side of the criminal mentality.

It opened up a new avenue for me though…one which I enjoyed and wanted to pursue further.

I also realised I needed to look at my own culture. Deeper. Further. And not the one that was put on display for visiting nations…the old one…pre colonisation…although I didn’t really understand what that was then…I just knew I needed to find my version of it, for myself.



“Pakeha Anger: Why Do They get Mad at Maori?”

Cognitive Dissonance succinctly explained.

For More Please Visit:

Exploring the Depths of the Maori Experience

So on one beautiful Sunday arvo in downtown Auckland, I was out having a couple of catch-up beers with the cuz, when we unexpectedly got talking to a Pakeha, let’s call him Joe. In his late thirties, living in a predominantly Pakeha populated, small town in Southland, Joe has worked hard his whole life, made a decent way for himself and his family, which forms his philosophy and worldview towards living – work hard and reap the rewards. And so, according to Joe and his life philosophy, anybody that can’t make a life for themselves should suffer the consequences for being lazy and useless, which led him to offer opinions on Maori issues such as;

“Maori come from an aggressive culture and so Maori need to whiten up”
“The land is not Maori’s, as the Maori sold it and so Maori need to get over it”
“Maori/Pakeha conflict is a North Island thing…

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speaking of racism & police violence

they say there is none.


a myth made up by those

who are criminally inclined

those that break windows

in a sleepy little town,

those who drink to get drunk

those who disturb

the peace, and the peaceful.

those that deserve

everything they get.


i wonder what those

well informed souls

believe about those in

the neighbouring vicinities

who under the ever watchful mauri,

of the black sands and maunga majestic,

tilled their soil

in peaceful protest

against the armed constabulary

ordered to remove them from their homes.

“As fears grew among white settlers that the resistance campaign was a prelude to renewed armed conflict,[6] the Hall Government began planning a military assault at Parihaka to close it down.[7] Pressured by Native Minister John Bryce, the government finally acted in late October 1881 while the sympathetic Governor was out of the country. Led by Bryce, on horseback, 1600 troops and cavalry entered the village at dawn on 5 November 1881.[8] The soldiers were greeted with hundreds of skipping and singing children offering them food. Te Whiti and Tohu were arrested and jailed for 16 months, 1600 Parihaka inhabitants were expelled and dispersed throughout Taranaki without food or shelter and the remaining 600 residents were issued with government passes to control their movement. Soldiers looted and destroyed most of the buildings at Parihaka. Land that had been promised as reserves by a commission of inquiry into land confiscations was later seized and sold to cover the cost of crushing Te Whiti’s resistance, while others were leased to European settlers, shutting Māori out of involvement in the decisions over land use.”

#throwback Jul 10, 2017 @ 19:37

photography & art @kpm-artist 





just cos, updates :

For some reason, as my hot flush started taking over this fine ass bod, I thought about the update I have been pondering on but haven’t got around to publishing …

So here I am :)

So, I’ve started packing up the house. I’m an anal fucker like that. But after the feng shui got disturbed with the partners dodgy agreement with the landlord, and although we’ve declined his white priveleged offer … there could be repercussions.

White privledge doesn’t like to be offended.

Oh, and the other reason I’ve started packing is I got shit to do and aint got time for packing in the next month or two.

Moko number #6 is due toward the end of August so I’ve planned on hanging out for a month. Cos thats what Nannys do ;)

By October though she’s on like donkey kong.

Well, for Me anyways.

I got like 4 more personal goals I want to meet before the end of the year. And the collaborative exhibition is in November.

This should be a doozy!

For Me, the process in preparing for it has been similar to the last … but my work has changed abit … which is also normal I’ve come to realise.

It’s all cathartic … it’s all a process …. its all processing.

I’ll be returning to my ‘protesty’ art lol. It’s what I started painting with. As in, I started painting because I had no words to explain the horror I felt as I learnt about our history. Our real history.

Honestly … the pain is horrific … and quite encumbersome. Painting was the only relief I could find.

So this time, our collaborative exhibition is based on the myths related to domestic violence. Completely my jam …

And as I started to try and get my head around what to paint, something completely different happened … as it does. You would have caught little snippets of it throughout the year and my painting related posts.

So this year, I’m addressing the whitewashing of our culture and our position as ‘women’ … of the reverse racism and the result of colonisation that sees Us now at the top of every violent, addict and victim statistic that is presented to Us via government and social justice groups.

As you can imagine … it’s caused a bit of angst ;)

But it’s been good. It’s brought another wave to the story.

In and amongst all this, I’m also going to respond to my daughters father, who was my first ‘grown up’ experience of ‘relationship’ violence. Not actually sure if it’s grown-up violence considering I was 15 … but oh well, there it is.

In the shitfest that was the rest of my life lol, I’m not sure that I ever really got to respond to / about him. I grew up and it turned out there were way worse things in store for Me than being beaten about the head with a telephone book.

But yeah …

So, I’ll continue to pop into my awesome blog and update randomly and have a giz around … catchup with the blog world happenings and post random posts and poetry about sexual assault, violence, racism and casual sexism … the usuals ;)

Love and light to All y’all xoxo

#abstract #art #abstract_art #abstractpainting #whitewash #series #storytelling #colonialcritique #resisting #resistalways #resistance_art #kpm©

photography & art @kpm-artist 


the right to be white?

If I was white for the day …


what would I do?

probs not wotcha think.


i’d go shopping.

1st to that little boutique,

the one that has absolutely gorgeous couture,

even though its prices are waaaaaaaay to inflated.

i’d browse.

and not be followed.


then I’d do the bank.

just the credit card pamphlets,

at my leisure of course.

i know no-one telling me

‘yah need a job for one of those’,

or ask security to stand next to me.


next I’d do lunch at that french patisserie place –

with the croissants that have chocolate in them!

i’d point to the food cabinet as many times as i like

and ask a tonne’a questions about ‘what’s that made from’;

knowing no-ones calling the manager or asking me how I intend on paying for anything here.


over lunch, i’d ring and apply for the house

round the corner

that declined me on sight.


after lunch, i’d go back to the store

that wouldn’t serve me,

asking me to wait for the ‘lady’ behind me.

i’d run up a huge purchase,

getting her to package all my unpaid goods.


and when she was done,

i’d change my mind and go elsewhere.



not big things, would I do.

not big things, to you.

call it, ‘exorcising my demons’.

the little things, that i avoid,

not being white.


and as a twist of fuck you fate,

i’d post the video footage of my day on FB,

quoting: ‘NZ is racist as fuck’.

Originally posted: July 11 2016.


the current news

In our little country, a story regarding the historic sexual assault of multiple children by a supposed prominent member of our Maori community, is circulating. This person is also now, deceased.

His ex wife and family came forward, via Facebook a couple weeks ago, and laid the whole thing bare.

Now on a personal level, I don’t have any beef with how she did this.

What is causing the current shit storm are the outcries of ‘false accusation’ and ‘you can’t condemn a dead man’ and ‘there is no-one else involved’. However the wife has spoken with police and given names of those who may or may not have been involved with the apparent ‘pedo ring’.

Now, I don’t have beef with this either.

The following rant may sound a little harsh in some areas; but, oh well.

The aftermath of this ‘outing’ is rampant on facebook and the  hurt feelings are running deep.

But what is certainly hard to stomach is the LACK of specific and forthright response or support for possible victims.

What is therefore probable, is that hardly any of them will actually come forward … because why would they?

Justice? Relief?

It’s a deep wound and one that can take years to unfold.

Which brings me to the following fuckery.

People are very very quick to jump on the pedo ring rant, or the support for a sexual assault victim – and no offence intended to these peeps. Their journey is just as fucked as the rest of ours.

My bitch is that when it comes to IN HOUSE sexual assault – via family member/s, there is little to Nil sympathy, empathy and support.


In my non-professional opinion, its because the general population can not quite fathom that a family member, a person related to a victim – a daughter, grandchild, nephew, child … can be sexually assaulted by their parent, grandparent, uncle, aunt, cousin, siblings …

We’ve been fed, as a society, the whole ‘monster under the bed’ theory, and the serial killer anomaly bullshit … that psychos are rare and only strike once in a while.

We forget that the stats for this sort of shit are currently 1 in 3 females / 1 in 5 males will be sexually assaulted before the age of 18 … in our country anyways.

It doesn’t seem to occur to us, that if these are the under-reported figures, who do they think is doing the assaulting?

Random strangers?


You are more likely to be sexually assaulted by someone you know, period.

I think what becomes to hard for the general population, is the thought of unravelling an entire families dysfunctions to get the whole shitty fucking thing right out in the open. It costs to shine a light on grubby little secrets that cost our children their entire lives.

But we as human beings, need a fucking reality check.

This shit is happening.

In homes.

In churches.

In schools.

Its done by seemingly normal looking people who hold down jobs, are on the PTA, play golf and do grocery shopping. They are skilled chameleons and do not want their filth exposed for the world to see.

Going back to our current news of the week … whoever is accused in this whole filthy thing, and it turns out that they’re innocent … cool. But I don’t care really. They’ll live.

Those that have had to deal with the ordeal of sexual assault and then have had to live with the secret for years … my empathy lies with them. Whether they speak out or not, they are all survivors and all deserve to heal.

The rest of the pedo cunts can go fuck themselves. I hope they’re called out and dealt with like our tipuna (ancestors) would have done.



photography .87


from pts(d) expression series #97 – Jan 24, 2017 @ 08:01

#sunset #whanganui #newzealand #beautiful #nature #ocean #sea #tangaroa #ptsdview #photo #photograph #photography #photographer #kpm©

photography & art @kpm-artist 



#lestweforget: operation 8

Yes: #lestweforget this beautiful little piece of out and out right racism and absolute fucking atrocity New Zealand.

#throwback: Nov 11, 2017 @ 23:42