Tag Archives: music

Into the Night: Jason Greig’s monoprints

When we were developing the Collecting Contemporary exhibition, I unconsciously developed a secret soundtrack – a mix-tape, if you like – of music that came to mind as I thought about the various works in the show. It was Jason Greig who, quite unknowingly, got me started on this track.

In addition to being a wonderfully talented contemporary printmaker, Jason is also a musician and is part of the rock metal band Into the Void, along with fellow New Zealand artist Ronnie van Hout.

Greig’s works contain a bewildering amalgam of literary, musical, and historical references and these are often alluded to in his titles. One work that appears in Collecting Contemporary is a terrific monoprint that he has called Seven years of labour for the instruments of time, 2003.

Jason Greig, 'Seven years of labour for the instruments of time', 2003. Te Papa.

Jason Greig, ‘Seven years of labour for the instruments of time’, 2003. Te Papa.

The title of this work is taken from a song by the Blue Öyster Cult, a 1980s prog rock band. The rock opera is called ‘Imaginos’ and it was released in 1988.

For the eagle-eyed among you, yes, this work featured in Jason’s survey exhibition The Devil Made Me Do It, some years back at the Christchurch Art Gallery.

Download the original brochure from that exhibition (PDF, 4.29MB)

Thinking about other works by Greig in Te Papa’s collection, other songs come to mind. Take The Phaedra Chain III, 2010, for example.

Jason Greig, 'The Phaedra Chain III', 2010. Te Papa.

Jason Greig, ‘The Phaedra Chain III’, 2010. Te Papa. (N.B. This work is not currently on public display.)

While Greig might be referring to the character of Phaedra in Greek mythology, he could as likely be referring to the subject of Lee Hazlewood’s ‘Some Velvet Morning’, originally released in 1968. Personally, the work makes me think of This Mortal Coil’s ‘Song to the Siren’ from 1983.

On the floating, shapeless oceans
I did all my best to smile
til your singing eyes and fingers
drew me loving into your eyes.

And you sang ‘Sail to me, sail to me;
Let me enfold you.’

Here I am, here I am waiting to hold you.
Did I dream you dreamed about me?
Were you here when I was full sail?

Now my foolish boat is leaning, broken love lost on your rocks.
For you sang, ‘Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow.’
Oh my heart, oh my heart shies from the sorrow.
I’m as puzzled as a newborn child.
I’m as riddled as the tide.
Should I stand amid the breakers?
Or shall I lie with death my bride?

Hear me sing: ‘Swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you.’
‘Here I am. Here I am, waiting to hold you.’

The other work by Jason Greig in Collecting Contemporary is Gideon, 2010.

Jason Greig, 'Gideon', 2010, Te Papa.

Jason Greig, ‘Gideon’, 2010. Te Papa.

This work brings to mind Oscar Wilde’s novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, 1890 and, in some ways, also Major-General Horatio Gordon Robley’s contentious collecting of Māori moko mokai. For some reason, however, I have yet to settle on my internal soundtrack selection for this work. Pondering whether Julee Cruise’s ‘Into the Night’ from 1989 might fit the bill…

~
Sarah Farrar
Curator of Contemporary Art

Riki Gooch and the sounds of tapa

Music and museum exhibitions haven’t always gone together – all part of the old idea that a museum should be a solemn and silent place.

Today, sound compositions in exhibitions are being used as part of the visitor experience. They offer a different way to approach the things on display – one in which the music speaks more to the heart and the emotions, than the intellect.

For the exhibition Paperskin – the art of tapa cloth we asked local musician and producer, Riki Gooch (aka Eru Dangerspiel) to create a sound composition in response to these wonderful tapa pieces from the Pacific.

Riki Gooch, musician and producer, in the Paperskin exhibition

Riki Gooch, musician and producer, in the Paperskin exhibition. Copyright Te Papa, 2010.

We asked him for a contemporary response - in line with the exhibition’s presentation of tapa as artworks, rather than tapa in its cultural context. We really wanted to avoid anything overly “ethnographic” and to steer away from Pasifika cliches such as endless Pacific drumming sounds…

Listen here to a sample of Riki’s composition:

Heybib
Three sketches for Harp, PVC pipes, Moog synthesiser and Voice
PVC pipes and Moog synthesiser by Riki Gooch, voice/loop effects by Victoria Shontelle-Parsons, harp by Natalia Mann

When we asked Riki how he approached this he told us that he was drawn to the colour tones in the tapa, where 3 or 4 colours are used in each piece, and that the symmetry of the works suggested strong musical motifs to him.

The instruments he uses are not what you might expect – jandals used to play PVC pipes, a harp, and a synthesizer. Riki says he chose these instruments as a deliberate contrast to the tapa works.

The biggest challenge was to write music which doesn’t get in the way of people viewing the works, and complements the tapa, “so it feels like a partnership between the tapa and the music”.

Riki enjoyed the project, especially learning more about tapa, its heritage and cultural significance. It was also a great experience for Riki and the team at Te Papa to share ideas and shape the overall work.

Why not visit the exhibition (it closes Sunday 12 September), listen to Riki’s sound composition and tell us what you think. Does it work for you?

When You’re Two

The earliest memory I have of my youth takes me back to approximately age three. I was finishing the weekly “playgroup” session with a few neighbours my age which had been held at my house that time. My mother was getting ready to drive the other kids home when my dad returned from work. I remember being given the choice of staying with Dad or riding in the car with Mother. I had an idea that I would prefer Dad to take my friends home and I’d ride with him. Of course, that wasn’t an option. Maybe I remember the situation because of my strong emotional reaction and/or the scene I caused.

I thought back to my stubbornness yesterday when I met a two-year-old child who wanted to walk around and swing one of our new ukuleles in the PlaNet Pasifika Discovery Centre. I explained to him that he was welcome to play the instrument but that he should take good care of it so other people could play it, too.

I know it’s hard trying to figure out how the world works. I’m still searching for many answers, myself!

Ukuleles in PlaNet Pasifika Photo by Anna Sheffield © Te Papa 2010

Ukuleles in PlaNet Pasifika Photo by Anna Sheffield © Te Papa 2010

I’m relieved to report that our interaction resulted in a great singing and strumming session for longer than I would have expected a two year old to be able to focus (around twenty minutes, I think). I hope he’ll come back to play again, someday. If he does, I’ll try to entice him into doing a puzzle to change his focus before he’s mentally exhausted.

I feel grateful for good parents, like his, who manage to find that balance between honouring their offspring and respecting the products and services we provide as the national museum.

I’m really excited to be able to speak out on behalf of the Discovery Centres here at Te Papa.  In honour of the boy who gave me inspiration for my first post I have written a very short poem. 

When you’re two
Options aren’t so clear to you.
If it seems
Like choosing limits your dreams
You may find
That the world feels less unkind
With a song.
Don’t forget to sing along!

Finding our voices

Earlier this week Hongoeka marae in Plimmerton was filled with the sounds of taonga pūoro (Maori musical instruments) – accompanied by the buzzing of  sanders and the call of tuis flitting among the flaxes.

Hongoeka marae, Plimmerton. Copyright Florence Liger

Hongoeka marae, Plimmerton. Copyright Florence Liger

I was one of twenty Te Papa staff who took part in a three day wānanga on taonga pūoro, tutored by members of Hau Manu – Richard Nunns, Brian Flintoff, Horomona Horo, James Webster and Warren Warbrick, with the assistance of Alistair Fraser and Henare Walmsley. Several staff  from museums in the Wellington area joined us for the wānanga.

Dr Richard Nunns sharing his knowledgeo of taonga puoro. Copyright Florence Liger

Dr Richard Nunns sharing his knowledge of taonga puoro. Copyright Florence Liger

The marae at Hongoeka was a great setting for our learning to take place and we were warmly welcomed and looked after by the people of the marae.  A beautiful  sunset at the close of day one and the visit of several whai (sting rays)  into the bay were signs that this was going to be a special time.

On the first evening we were introduced to the history of  the wharenui Te Heke-Mai-Raro and the stories behind it. The design of the kowhaiwhai and tukutuku patterns in this house relate to whakatauki – expressing concepts such as whanaungatanga, turangawaewae and wairuatanga. We then listened as Richard Nunns introduced us to the family of taonga pūoro instruments.

The next day we divided into groups to spend time with each tutor. Richard shared his incredible knowledge of the different instruments and helped us as we started to learn how to play them. With each telling you get to hear new anecdotes and stories from Richard – he drops in fresh morsels of info and kōrero.

Brian Flintoff patiently lead us through making nguru, kōauau, pūtōrino and porotiti. For a year now I’ve had one of Brian’s pūtōrino. It’s been sanded and burnished for some time and I’ve been trying to find its voice. They say you have to perserve with taonga pūoro, and just a few months ago, I did find it’s voice. With Brian’s help at this wananga my pūtōrino now has its final carvings and bindings.

Brian Flintoff working with us on our taonga puoro. Copyright Florence Liger

Brian Flintoff working with us on our taonga puoro. Copyright Florence Liger

James Webster helped us make and then play our porotiti and purerehua, skilfully and very generously decorating our instruments with wonderful designs.

James Webster. Copyright Florence Liger

James Webster. Copyright Florence Liger

Horomona Horo challenged each group to compose a piece – to write our words and then add in the taonga pūoro. At first this seemed like an impossible thing to do – but inspiration came from the experiences of the day and our composition slowly took shape.

Horomona Horo. Copyright Florence Liger

Horomona Horo. Copyright Florence Liger

Meanwhile a small group of staff were taken through the process of making a pūkāea by Warren Warbrick. 

Warren Warbrick shaping a pukaea. Copyright Florence Liger

Warren Warbrick shaping a pukaea. Copyright Florence Liger

Cutting the timber, shaping out the insides and then crafting  the final shape of these large trumpet-like instruments was a huge task – several people worked very hard, late into the night to get their pūkāea finished.

Awhina Tamarapa working on her pukaea. Copyright Florence Liger

Awhina Tamarapa working on her pukaea. Copyright Florence Liger

At the end of the second day everyone  joined together for the Pō Whakangahau, or evening concert. Using our new skills and knowledge we worked together to play our new instruments and make music. The magic and power of these taonga pūoro shone through – you could feel the warmth, the energy and the emotions. I was reminded of the power that music has to join people together and to touch you.

This wānanga was a very special time. As Te Papa staff we were privileged to learn from our Hau Manu tutors. For me, and for others, it was a rich, moving, and restorative experience – it felt good to be filled up like this and to have your batteries recharged.

Now our challenge is to work together and carry on our journey with taonga pūoro to bring their voices into our work at Te Papa.

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