Tia’s Taniwha
Taniwha, by Tia Ranginui from the series 'tua o Tāwauwau' 2020.
There is something seductive and dangerous, about Tia Ranginui’s work Taniwha. A standout artwork in the 2021 Pattillo Whanganui Arts Review. My original intention was to canvas the show, pick out three or four noteworthy pieces, present a decent enough critique to entice potential visitors to the Sarjeant Art Gallery to view the artistic talent Whanganui has on offer. But, upon entering the gallery, all my good intentions fell to the wayside. I was immediately ensnared by a curious, and wondrous piece by Maori photographer, Tia Ranginui. The fantastic creature she she has captured is simply captivating. What follows is my journey into the depths of Ranginui’s Taniwha.
The cleverly curated scene presents a two headed figure, wearing a light tan gown with a blue and green embroidered dragon on the back. This entity sits inside a small wooden paddle boat, on a grassy yard, in front of a faded black fence, with the aged white fence capping, creating a partition between the cloudy sky, and the lower portion of the scene.
With very little reference points, Rangnui’s overture begins. The nondescript location forces the viewer to reposition this scene outside reality, into the realm of fantasy. We begin to take a journey into a suburban dystopia that is unrecognizable, yet, very familiar. There is a dreamlike quality to the scene that is offset, and disrupted by the midday lighting. Everything in this picture is awkwardly beautiful. From the boat that is out of water; to the sky that seems like it's trapped in a fish tank; the yard that is neither at the front or at the back; the fence that appears to be holding the weight of the sky; the androgynous entity that is two people merged into one.
It is at this interlude between fantasy, and reality, that Ranginui teases out her mythical narrative, with the two headed creature playing the central lead. The polycephaly sits unrestrained within the confines of the boat. The dragon motif on it’s back presents a unambiguous warning to the viewer that this mystical being, is a powerful force. However, there is some uncertainty, and apprehension as to the nature of this creature. Are we to approach with foolhardiness, or, with caution?
My initial reaction to viewing this work was of curiosity, the scorching red hair, the pale pink skin peaked my sense of intrigue, I wanted to immediately know what this creature looked like. I imagined something strange and beautiful, like the vampires from The Twilight Saga, with all its teen angst, glistening radiant skin, smoldering looks, and saucy sexiness. But for some odd reason, this scene does not induce confidence, instead, I suspect that this is a scene from a horror movie where the monster's face is hidden from view, until the point at which they reveal themselves to the audience.
Ranginui intelligently uses the framing of her shot, the third person limited point of view, to take advantage of our psychological position as the observer, or voyeur in this scene. She plays on our vulnerabilities, and insecurities, testing our willingness to confront the unknown and the strange. She has set up a scenario for us to step into, to immerse ourselves inside her mythical world. Do we step forward and ask this entity to reveal itself? Like a recoiled snake, the entity is ready to strike and devour us, at any moment. The question becomes, has Ranginui positioned the viewer at a safe enough distance that we can either retreat and run to safety, or, will we be devoured?
Luckily I trust Tia, and I will venture down this rabbit-hole to reveal to you the beauty that hides within the belly of this beast. Maori artists like Ranginui, are adept at using their artistic practice to create narrative pieces that are aesthetically well structured, and also, provide an insightful dialogue about the Maori psyche. What we can see in the framing of this artwork, is a construct that enables us to participate as an observer, and help us understand the way in which Maori artists like Ranginui see the world. We get to ride alongside the artist as they unfurl Maori cultural ideas, in this case the taniwha. We also get to see how Rangnui pulls at the individual strands that hold these cultural fabrics together.
A serious violation of tapu by Tia Ranginui from Hine / Noa / Tapu 2016 Whangarei Art Museum Te Manawa Toi.
In a piece called A serious violation of tapu, 2016, Tia was exploring the idea of tapu and noa. She set about, to challenge some fundamental Maori beliefs surrounding the sacred, and the profane. The apples, or kai (food) being placed on the upoko (head) presents the obvious reference to the violation of tapu, but in this case, it becomes the sub-text to a much larger, more complex transgression taking place. In this piece, Ranginui configures the tea towel as a burka, to veil the identity of two naked women. A move I personally find fascinating. As a Maori who grew up on a pa (Maori settlement) I am familiar with the motif of a tea towel being a symbolic representation of the ringawera (kitchen hand). However, in this recasting, Ranginui uses the tea towel to take aim at the repression of the female form. She challenges the idea of a domestic housewife. At the same time crossing over cultural boundaries to question Islamic cultural traditions. The direct reference to the slang ‘rag head’ or ‘tea towel head’ [1] is an audacious statement that does not go unnoticed.
Ranginui presents a challenge to the viewer, asking us to position ourselves in relation to this scene. Who are we to judge these cultural practices? And, where do we sit in relation to the cultural customs being questioned here? It’s a fascinating take on the idea of tapu and noa. Particularly, in the way Ranginui has attempted to navigate these cultural taboos through the photographer’s lens. This kind of gutsy fearlessness displayed in her work, and her ability to confront issues head on, is courageous. It’s with this same fearless attitude that we follow Ranginui down into the world of the taniwha.
Taniwha are typically understood to be a supernatural creature from Maori mythology. Powerful beings that lurk in the waters. The following description of a taniwha provides an good overview for our general purposes:
‘...water spirit, monster, dangerous water creature, powerful creature, chief, powerful leader, something or someone awesome - taniwha take many forms from logs to reptiles and whales and often live in lakes, rivers or the sea. They are often regarded as guardians by the people who live in their territory, but may also have a malign influence on human beings.’ [2]
Armed with this understanding, that a taniwha is essentially a powerful supernatural water entity that takes on many forms, something that we should respect, something that we should be extremely careful of, then what are we to make of Ranginui’s Taniwha? Is Ranginui’s Taniwha powerful, or powerless? Here we have a water monster removed from its natural habitat, a powerful force rendered impotent because it is trapped in a boat, landlocked, and in the middle of the suburbs. In its natural environment beneath the waters, this two headed taniwha would be a force to be reckoned, with the power to kill, or consume those who cross it’s path.
This idea of defanging the influence of a cultural belief system by re-framing its context, is a fascinating proposition. These kinds of thought provoking compositions sit at the heart of Ranginui’s quest for truth about the nature of both Maori and Pakeha belief systems. Ranginui raises some important questions about what makes those things in the Maori world powerful? What is it about context, that keeps these systems intact? What is it that keeps Maori safe from violating tapu, or in this case, being consumed by a taniwha? Why is it safer for a Maori to transgress a cultural protocol within a Pakeha, or suburban setting, than it is within a Maori one?
I know from personal experience, that wearing my shoes into my house is a cultural transgression that will not kill me, but I suspect, just like Tia, I would dare not wear my shoes inside the Wharenui on my own Marae, or any Wharenui for that matter. What this piece Taniwha further questions is the very nature of a Maori world view. That is, is this creature, or this cultural tenet a real thing? Or, is it just fantasy? Maori who live in this modern world, in the suburbs, why is it that we feel the need to adhere to these otherwise outdated cultural traditions? Whereas on a daily basis we will unwittingly violate a Maori cultural practice, tenet, or belief system.
Even within Ranginui’s own artistic practice, there might be some sacred cows that remain off limits, it is a burden, and privilege that contemporary Maori artists share. The burden is that we move within the Pakeha art-world adhering to our own cultural restrictions, and a privilege, that we can draw inspiration from the rich heritage of both Pakeha, and Maori cultures, and their subsequent artistic traditions.
This begs a tangent question about context. Is this Taniwha actually in its natural environment, and, within its rightful cultural place? If we are to assume that this is a Pakeha entity, with its red hair, and pink skin, a Pakeha taniwha if you will, it’s contrast to the Maori equivalent is a tantalizing premise. The idea of the Pakeha as a strange, and dangerous creature, opens up a pandora’s box that pivots toward challenging the concept of otherness, strangeness, and the perception of normal. It becomes a topic for an intriguing conversation? For our purposes however, I’ll present Tia’s Taniwha as being a Maori entity, this topic of otherness will no doubt be explored at a later date.
Maori artists like Ranginui show us a rare, and often fleeting glimpse into the multi-layered, multi-dimensional aspects Maori art practice has to offer the art world. Artworks like Taniwha are subtle in their exploration of Maori culture. So subtle, that some Maori narratives might be overlooked by casual observers not familiar with the visual language contemporary Maori artists use. For example, the compositional forms of the sky, the fence, and the grass could be re-imagined as the Maori creation narrative playing out in the background. The wooden fence is of course a representation of Tane separating his parents Ranginui (the sky father) and Papatuanuku (the earth mother).
The viewer might look at this scene as being regionalised to the mythologies of Maori along the Whanganui river. The most prominent allusion is the twin peaks of Ruapehu denoted as the two headed figure, the gown is recast as the mountain itself. The boat, and taniwha iconography, might point to Rangatira (chiefs), Hapu (tribes), and waka (canoe) along the Whanganui river. As a mode of transport, and symbol of mana (prestige), the waka has a long and significant history for Maori in general, including on the Whanganui awa. There are a plethora of mythology, and narrative sequences going on in this piece, too many to unpack in one sitting. What is abundantly clear, however, is that Ranginui has an acute eye for the dramatic, and a very dark sense of humor.
The Maori world with all its mythic entities is a world that I suspect Pakeha typically do not engage with. Some of our Maori traditions may seem bizarre to the outsider, but, I must admit, the same can be said of Maori looking outward at Pakeha customs and beliefs. These mythical set pieces of Ranginui’s provide the viewer with an amazing opportunity to explore the other, regardless of whether you are an observer, a participant, Maori or Pakeha. Tia’s Taniwha is a seductive and dangerous creature that invites you into her world. Once this monster takes a hold of your imagination, the interpretive possibilities are boundless.
References:
[1] A derogatory slang denoting a burka wearing person - see https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Tea%20towel%20head
[2] https://maoridictionary.co.nz/search?&keywords=taniwha
