40 minute read
CULTURE
from Capital 83
by Capital
ART ON SHOW
The annual NZ Art show is an important avenue for local artists to sell their work. From crisp award-winning photographs by Brooklyn’s Catherine Cattanach, moody, atmospheric oil paintings by Jane Blackmore, chicken portraits by Paekākāriki’s Ronda Thompson and photorealistic landscapes by Ben Dellabarca the show assembles a wide diversity of styles and genres. There are also 90 sculptures that have been selected for the RT Nelson sculpture awards, including carved clay vessels by Porirua’s Stevei Houkāmau (pictured). At TSB Arena, from 3 to 5 June.
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IN THE BAG
Handbags, gin, and gelato – what’s not to like? Every Thursday in July, thow a glamorous bag over your shoulder and enjoy a free curator’s tour of Carry Me (with refreshments). The show brings over 50 luxurious handbags from private Italian collections – think “The Jackie”, Diana’s “Lady Dior”, or Carrie Bradshaw’s “Baguette” – to just one New Zealand venue, Upper Hutt’s Whirinaki Whare Taonga. Related events include a Retro and Vintage Fair at the gallery on 24 July. Carry Me: 100 Years of Handbags, from 14 May to 7 August, Whirinaki Whare Taonga, Upper Hutt. CRINGE REVERSE
In 2021, almost one in four songs on commercial radio came from New Zealand acts. That’s a huge jump from five years ago, when only 12 percent were locally grown. And there were over 25,000 radio plays of waiata reo Māori, up from 4,582 in 2019. These record-breaking numbers were boosted by NZ On Air investment from the Arts Recovery Package, which funded over 400 music projects in 2021 and the next two years. RED MUSIC
Violin virtuoso Amalia Hall (pictured) has performed as a soloist with many European orchestras, but May’s Passione concert will be her NZSO debut. Well known to chamber music aficionados, and as concertmaster of Orchestra Wellington, Hall will play John Corigliano’s Chaconne from his score for The Red Violin. James Judd, NZSO Music Director Emeritus, also returns to conduct two masterpieces, Strauss’s Don Juan, and Prokofiev’s score for Romeo and Juliet, in a night of grand, stirring, passionate music.
COFFEE & GREAT READS
A HAPPY BUILD?
Can we build people happy? We absolutely can, said Stockholm architect Jan Inghe. His life’s work was to show how large-scale developments can create attractive, eco-friendly, people-centred urban spaces. An Other City, a film on Jan Inghe and urban planning, shows at the Resene Architecture and Design Film Festival 2022 alongside films about opera, adobe, the world’s largest stained-glass window, Polish tractor factories, and the challenges of providing temporary shelter for refugees. From 19 May to 5 June. See the programme at rialto.co.nz
MULTI-PRONGED
Matarau is the name for a multipronged spear used for fishing and eeling; also of a new exhibition at City Gallery, guest-curated by Wellington artist Shannon Te Ao (pictured) with artists Robyn Kahukiwa, Emily Karaka, Hemi Macgregor, Ming Ranginui, Kei Te Pai Press, and James Tapsell-Kururangi. Feeling their way in shifting, changing times, these artists call upon whakapapa, their environment, politics and love to create their art. Matarau, City Gallery Wellington, from May. TAONGA STORIES
Taonga of Ngāti Toa Rangatira, including weapons, carvings and jewellery from Te Rauparaha and whanau, are being exhibited at Pātaka. Accompanied by sound and videos, they bring to life the stories of this local iwi, from its origins in Kawhia, the great heke (migration) south, treaty signings, settlements on Kāpiti Island and both sides of Te Moana o Raukawa, heroines, battles, and land sales. Whiti te rā, the story of Ngāti Toa Rangatira, at Pātaka, in Porirua. DANCE AGAIN IN THE CITY
Something of a drought of live dance performance in the capital is being broken by Dry Spell from Footnote (our longest-running contemporary dance company.) The show is the story of one night, five complex characters, and their experiences of fantasy and reality, desire and disgrace. “We look at the edge between fear and pleasure, and the tricks the mind plays,” says choreographer Rose Philpott. With sound design by Eden Mulholland, Dry Spell has only one night in Wellington, 11 May at Wellington Opera House.
WOMB INTERNATIONAL
The globe is shrinking for couples seeking surrogate wombs – and for NZ audiences joining online Zoom theatre shows. Global Belly_Zoom, by Berlin theatre company Flinn Works, is an online interactive performance about transnational surrogacy. It questions and explores the complex ethics and emotions of the industry. Blessing of modern medicine, or neocolonial act? What nationality or passport should the babies get? Professional agents, content surrogates, argumentative feminists, and loving fathers-to-be all have something to say in Global Belly_Zoom on 21 May, a limited-ticket event supported by the Goethe Institute (email info.wellington@goethe.de to register).
LOOKING GLASS
See historic and contemporary glass treasures in Collect 22 at Whanganui’s Glassworks, running until June 26. The first show in an annual series displaying private glass collections, it’s drawn from the extensive 40-year collection of glass blogger, former museum director, and Heritage New Zealand manager Stuart Park. Round off your visit to Glassworks by watching red-hot glassblowers in action – or try your hand at making a vessel or paperweight at one of their beginners’ workshops. UNITED / TRANSFORMED
“Ko au te awa, ko te awa ko au.” In My River Goes With Me, Johnson Witehira brings stones from the banks of Whanganui awa, his ancestral river, to the Dowse Gallery, in an exhibition that runs throughout much of the year. Their mauri anchors the digital kowhaiwhai images and soundscapes flowing through the immersive installation. A collaboration with Winnipeg-based Julie Nagam, My River Goes With Me celebrates the life-giving water that unites people and landscapes around the planet, providing sustenance and healing, uplifting, uniting and transforming. DARK SATANIC MILLS
Heritage woollen crafts are having a revival; She Shed showcases seven contemporary makers at Petone Settlers Museum. Vita Cochran’s Offcuts Rug, hooked from old woollen garments, reflects Cochran’s recent discovery that three of her great-aunts migrated from Manchester in 1913 to work in Petone Woollen Mill. Lizzy Leckie’s woven pieces, dyed with plant material using methods she first learned foraging with her grandmother, are also among the works chosen by Dr Bronwyn Lloyd, 2021 Blumhardt Curator.
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Plastic fantastic
PHOTOGRAPHY BY LEWIS FERRIS
Sophie Scott-Maunder, Jonathan Shirley, and Laura Robinson formed their band, Soft Plastics, on the cusp of covid. They talk to Francesca Emms.
Soft Plastics released their debut EP on the same day Jacinda Ardern announced the first nation-wide lockdown. But rather than getting down about the pandemic, they saw it as a blessing in disguise. Their first few gigs didn’t go ahead, giving them more time to fine-tune their songs, write more, and even bin some.
Postponed performances are the norm, but Sophie, Laura, and Jono have earned an excellent live reputation and shared the stage with the likes of The Beths, Silicon, King Sweeties, and Wax Chattels. Describing themselves as garage pop with a nostalgic twist, Soft Plastics sound fuller than you’d expect from a three-piece. Jono’s guitar and Laura’s drums rise and fall with Sophie’s nuanced vocal performance: from soft, tender, and vulnerable to large, loud, and powerful.
Each member brings specific skills to the group. With a Masters degree in screenwriting from the International Institute of Modern Letters and a certificate in filmmaking from The New Zealand Film and Television School, Laura is the obvious choice to produce their music videos. As well as playing drums and singing she also keeps track of their accounts.
Sophie is a co-curator of Eyegum Music Collective and is a core organiser of Welcome to Nowhere, an indie music festival which has been putting on events in the Whanganui region for the past six years. She’s the lead singer, bass player, and administrator/organiser for the group.
Then there’s guitarist Jono who studied at Te Kōkī New Zealand School of Music, completing an honours degree in Sonic Arts. He has since contributed to a wide variety of musical outfits including experimental electronics ensembles and post-punk trios, and composing for film and theatre. He’s also the go-to for technical feedback.
Earlier this year, with a grant for new music from NZ on Air, Soft Plastics filmed their first music video. It’s for their single, Day Job, which is about disliking the boring aspects of your job. “I think most people can relate,” says Sophie. In the video she sings, “If I had my dream job, I’d quit my day job… then I wouldn’t have to work for you” as her character goes about the mundane tasks of her notso-mundane job. “It’s not about my current job, and I’ve had to explain that to my manager,” she laughs. “It’s about working, in general, and feeling like you’re not doing what you’re supposed to be doing. But it’s not supposed to be taken too seriously, and the music video helps reinforce that. It’s supposed to be tongue in cheek.”
Soft Plastics are working on a debut album. Written collaboratively, many of their songs are moody (one is referred to as “Sophie’s Sad Song”) while others are more silly. Most are so catchy you can’t help bopping along – just try to get I Love My Wife out of your head.
Flying Nun have declared Soft Plastics one of their “current favourite local bands”, saying the trio “takes 90s shoegaze and 2010s alt-rock in its stride, and turns heartache into killer pop hooks.” Soft Plastics have also caught the notice of RNZ, who’ve labelled them “Ones to watch” for 2022, describing them as “one of those bands who are going to go places.” They hope to live up to expectations.
Soft Plastics’ new single Day Job will be released on 6 May. Upcoming gigs include a Flying Nun event at Vogelmorn Bowling Club on 12 May, and opening for Fur Patrol’s New Zealand tour later in the year.
New generation feels the pressure
When Tukiri Tini talks about whakairo, or carving, his kōrero is rich with the whakapapa of master carvers from his iwi and whanau back in Te Whakarewarewa geothermal valley. Now the Rotorua-raised artist is creating high-profile taonga and carving out his own place in the Capital. He talks to Rachel Helyer Donaldson.
PHOTOGRAPHY BY ADIRAN VERCOE
At 26, artist and carver Tukiri Tini (Ngāi Tahu, Tainui and Te Arawa) has contributed to taonga that are held around the world, from Beijing to Chile, Los Angeles and Rarotonga. Tukiri is proud of his work overseas, but his main focus is “to create authentic taonga Māori for our people here, in our homeland”. It’s one of the driving forces behind his business, Toi Whakairo, which translates as the art of carving. Set up with his partner Kāmaia Takuira-Mita (Ngāti Rongomai, Ngāti Rangiwewehi, Ngāi Tahu, Sāmo) in 2017, Toi Whakairo aims to “develop, design and share the art of whakairo with whānau and friends”.
Working eight-hour days from his garage studio in Miramar, Tukiri creates taonga – from weapons such as taiaha, tewhatewha and patu, to larger pieces like poupou (wall panels), and waka huia (treasure containers). Depending on the
piece, he uses hard woods like maire and rata, or softer timber like tōtara, rimu, and kōpara.
Most customers come to him via word of mouth, or through social media. Tukiri’s pieces are specifically made for his customers. A bespoke taonga is for life: “It will be handed down, generation after generation.”
He is driven by the need to perpetuate his art form, once in danger of dying out. Growing up in the centuries-old geothermal village of Whakarewarewa in Rotorua, Tukiri was very aware of the great whakapapa, or lineage, of master carvers from the area.
Tukiri studied with master carvers Clive Fugill and James Rickard at the New Zealand Māori Arts and Craft Institute (NZMACI), part of the huge tourism venture Te Puia, in Whakarewarewa. They were once students of master carver Hōne Taiapa – a student of the first Wānanga Whakairo, set up by Sir Āpirana Ngata in 1927 to ensure the survival of Māori carving. After graduating, Tukiri spent four years alongside Rickard in Te Puia’s marae restoration team, helping iwi across Aotearoa to restore and preserve their whare. Tukiri has since completed a second degree in whakairo at Te
Wānanga o Aotearoa, in Huntly, studying with master carver Hohepa Peni who learnt under master carver Tuti Te Kaokao.
At Rotorua Boys’ High School, where he was a prefect, Tukiri studied painting, and he started out as a graffiti artist. It taught him how to achieve scale in his carving. Whakairo was similar to graffiti in the way it’s laid out his tutors explained, “but in a Māori form and manaia [figures], representing tūpuna and ancestors and kōrero”.
Tukiri aspires to be like his cousin Tony Thompson, a master carver and tutor at NZMACI. “He’s the most amazing carver. He’s a real generational carver – he could do his style, he could do all the other carvers’ styles”. Whakairo passes on the kōrero, or history, of each tribe. Every iwi has a different way of carving, so it’s important to know every style. “Our goal through Toi Whakairo is to keep the art of whakairo alive, to provide a safe place for our people to purchase authentic taonga Māori.”
Some people can feel “whakamā, too shy”, to receive a taonga, particularly if they don’t know their whakapapa or don’t speak te reo Māori. “I want to break that. If you're Māori, that, to me, is enough for you to receive a taonga.”
As an artist, there are several pieces he’s particularly proud of. He carved two taonga in memory of his late uncle, Te Arawa rangatira (leader) and historian Mauriora Kingi. They are used as trophies at the Te Arawa regional kapa haka competition and the national kapa haka competition Te Matatini.
Last year Tukiri was a finalist in the inaugural Kiingi Tuheitia Portraiture Award for a pou, exhibited at New Zealand Portrait Gallery Te Pūkenga Whakaata. It was in honour of his father, a descendant of Tainui. “It was a symbol of thanks for the history and knowledge that he's passed down to me.” The pou itself was a symbolic representation of his tūpuna, Hoturoa, and his voyage across the Pacific on the Tainui waka, “and a nod to the Kiingitanga [the Māori King movement]”.
His latest work is his biggest. Tukiri spent much of 2021 at his father’s house in Rotorua working on a pou whenua of his ancestor Umukaria, a great chief of the Tūhourangi tribe. The 4.2-metre, 800-kg pou was one of five taonga commissioned by Rotorua Lakes Council. Tukiri was amazed, he says, to be given the job of carving the main chief, over his older cousins.
“My auntie Watu Mihinui, one of the main kaitiaki of Te Whakarewarewa, said it was time for a new generation to come through and share their interpretations of how we would display our ancestors.” He was “really honoured and privileged to do it, but man, I felt the pressure”. It was a tough seven months, but whānau bolstered him with their support. Umukaria now stands in the Te Pūtake o Tawa forest hub. Tukiri is proud of creating something lasting. “I’m still lost for words. But it was an awesome experience.”
Since then, the commissions have been non-stop. Kāmaia, 27, handles the business side of Toi Whakairo, and also works as a mātauranga Māori adviser for the Ministry of Education, and runs a sustainable and ethical clothing line, Ara. In future the couple (who had their first date at Kāmaia’s Nan’s house in Whakarewarewa in 2016) hope to undertake collaborations between Toi Whakairo and Ara, and get into tā moko (tattooing).
Tukiri moved to Wellington two years ago, to advance his business. “It was hard in Rotorua when there’s a carver or ta moko artist or flax artist or weaving artist on every street, every corner. I didn’t like standing on any of my elders’ toes, I'll come back when the time’s right.”
Coming to Te Whanganui-a-Tara was “the best decision for me”, he says. Miramar, where he and Kāmaia flat with a friend and Tukiri’s nephew, is a “very awesome community”. So is the whole of Wellington. “It's a very artsy city.” Meanwhile Tukiri’s name is getting out there. “It's so funny how this all works out. Part of me was thinking, I'm going to miss my home. But I got down here, and this whare reminds me of home. I feel really safe here.”
House
Harvest home
BY ARTHUR HAWKES PHOTOGRAPHY BY OLIVIA LAMB
Edward and Auriga Martin have built the offgrid eco home they always dreamed of, from natural materials sourced from the local area.
Edward and Auriga Martin’s straw bale home project began eight years ago, when they purchased a secluded Martinborough paddock. The house they built there is almost entirely crafted from natural building materials that were sourced within a few kilometres of the property.
As Edward describes the testing three-year build, he smears a clay mixture onto straw bales which have been stacked like bricks to form a wall. They sit between wooden bucks – strong uprights of parallel timber with horizontal supports. Before the demo, he has sprayed the wall with a thin clay and water mixture, which grips to the layer he’s now daubing with his hands: a viscous paste of clay, water, sand, and straw, which will dry to form a sturdy plaster.
While straw feature walls are increasingly common, Auriga and Edward wanted to have all the walls, interior and exterior, made from straw; to have the frame of the house made entirely from wood; and to have earth floors throughout. The only man-made material in the core build is the concrete for the two bathroom floors, and Edward even experimented with making Roman-style concrete from lime, but this proved a bridge too far.
“Every single thing took longer than expected, and nothing was easy about it. You couldn’t really turn to people to ask, as it was all so specific. When I started it I was probably the perfect combination of naive and arrogant to actually think I could do it,” Edward laughs. Almost all the materials he used come from the Wairarapa: the barley straw is from a local farm, the wood was collected and stored in the course of Edward’s work as an arborist,
the clay is dug from the ground around the property, and the sand is from a nearby river. Their electricity and hot water come from solar panels and a wetback wood burner.
The roof and bucks were completed by a local builder, then Edward took the reins and did almost everything solo over two years, while Auriga juggled the development of the interior with her busy work life. “This was about using the materials around us,” says Edward. “It’s all here and you can build houses with it.”
Local timber is a feature throughout. Cedar French doors open onto a hefty raised deck at the front, which is sheltered by extended eaves supported by thick macrocarpa beams and Douglas fir pillars. An open-plan living area and kitchen, heated by their wood burner, sits in the middle, with a traditional ceramic sink and black granite counter tops from Early Settler.
Three bedrooms and two bathrooms are nestled away to the sides of the house.
The earthen walls and floors are treated with natural oils like linseed and orange, which seal them and repel water. “We can actually mop our earth floors – it’s so cool,” says Auriga. At the rear of the property is another substantial covered deck, which looks out onto surrounding forest. A wood-fired cedar hot tub lies a few metres beyond the tree line. They feed the tub’s furnace on days when someone fancies a restorative soak, which is fairly often as they live an active life.
Edward is a keen skier, and competes in gruelling multi-sport races when he is not working. Their girls, 12 and 10, are competitive mountain bikers. Auriga works long days as a manager in the financial sector. She opened the Ventana art space in Martinborough. Much of their art collection is from her time there,
including several colourful ceramic works by fellow Californian Lorien Stern. For a family that gives everything to their work and their passions, the home they’ve built is a sanctuary.
The couple met in Greece when they were 20. “He was on his Kiwi multiyear OE,” says Auriga, “I was doing my American single-year trip. I was going to art school and being productive, and he was DJing and living in a tent! We’ve been together ever since: it was love at first sight, and that was 23 years ago.”
They lived in the USA during their twenties; month-long trips to Bali became a staple after their first child was born in
2009. The French doors, built by Wellington’s Well Hung Joinery and installed by Edward, have a Balinese design incorporated into the frame. “We love Bali,” says Auriga. “This detail reminds us of happiness and vacation.”
Between moving to New Zealand in 2007 and moving into their straw bale home in early 2021, the Martins lived in a traditional farmhouse in Martinborough, the town which Edward’s ancestor John founded in 1879. It got cold in winter, and their newborn would develop an endless cough. “It was stressful as new parents. We just wanted more warmth,” says Auriga. “That was even part of our wedding vows: he said, ‘I promise that you will always be warm’.”
When the style of home they wanted crystallised, Auriga found a course offered by a company called Sol Design. Edward, who admits he is no builder, spent a week in Geraldine with the owners of Sol, Sven and Sarah Johnston, learning the techniques needed to build with straw.
The interior of the property continues the celebration of natural materials. It isn’t too fussy: the exposed wood and textured walls are features in their own right. Some are coloured with plant-based paint from the Natural Paint Company in Christchurch – light blue for the pantry, green for the bathrooms. The red gum used for
the bathroom surfaces comes from a huge tree that once stood on the site of their kitchen.
The bathroom tiles are from Moabell, the project of Moroccan-born Mohamed Belkouadssi from Whanganui. He makes each tile using an encaustic cement method with sand, marble powder, and natural pigments. The bright tiles, exposed wood, and colourful artworks are reminiscent of the Californian straw bale homes that Auriga grew up around. “It’s quite common to use straw bales to save money in parts of the US,” she says, “so there’s a lot more of it going on – in the warmer states things dry really quickly. It’s great to see it catching on more here.”
Auriga points out one slightly bowed wall. “That’s a pretty common feature of straw bale homes, but we wanted to avoid it, especially around the window and door frames.” Edward devised a method using pieces of old carpet, which he stretched over edges and backfilled to create smooth, even lines. “He’d drop stuff off at the dump, get weighed, and then come back heavier because he’d taken so much old carpet!”
After the huge effort of the build, the only thing the family needs to do now is add the odd log to the wood burner. “It’s not high maintenance,” says Auriga. “We’re off grid. We choose to keep the fire going when the weather’s not great, but that’s about it – we love it.”
Wellington rising
Coming soon to back yards near you. Roger Walker makes a case for urban intensification and against castles on quarter-acres.
Roger Walker was born in Hamilton, and graduated with honours from Auckland University in 1967. He has been self employed as an architect in Wellington since 1971 and was elected a Fellow of the NZIA in 1987. In 1999 he received an ONZM from the Queen, for Services to Architecture. In 2018 he was awarded the NZIA Gold Medal. He has appeared on various TV programmes, including Mitre 10 Dream Home, The AA Torque Show, and recently Designing Dreams with Matthew Ridge. He has recently embarked on a parallel career as an artist. The advantage of that he says is that neither Resource nor Building Consents are necessary.
Reforms to the Resource Management Act, passed with cross-party support, take effect in August of this year. So the City Council is busy rewriting its District Plan for the first time in 20 years. Of nearly 3,000 submissions on the draft plan, the majority were in favour.
About 60% of the local provisions for implementing the legislative reforms are already in force. Those providing for housing intensification are being fast tracked. The result will be the most far-reaching changes to the physical form and appearance of our city since the arrival of the motor car.
Living and working in Wellington for over fifty years, I have seen many district plans come and go. Some bizarre things have been tried but sensible thinking has mostly prevailed.
When I arrived the District Plan sited the highest buildings on ridges such as The Terrace, with permitted heights lowering towards the water’s edge, to maximise harbour views. But corporate power compromised this concept by building high on the Quays.
The population of Wellington is predicted to grow by 80,000 in the next 30 years. Where are we going to put all these people? This is a formidable challenge, which legislators and local planners are trying to meet on two fronts, building upward and covering more ground.
Going up
My first job in Wellington was working for Michael Fowler. He once took me to meet with the caretaker of our Lambton Quay building. The caretaker loved his house on top of the building. He had light and sun on four sides and views in every direction, two minutes in the lift from Lambton Quay. I will never forget Michael’s reaction: “More people should be living like this.” And he instigated the colonisation of the city as a place for living as well as working.
Wellington is now the envy of cities whose residents live scattered far from their urban attractions. And the enviable trends will continue under the new District Plan, which will focus half of the projected growth in the CBD.
Height is the less controversial dimension of intensification. There has always been an upwards thrust. A 70s “arts bonus” allowed extra floors on any building that provided a sculpture set in
open space in front of it. The hope of preserving said open spaces was optimistic, witness the Green Man bar standing at the corner of Willeston and Victoria Streets, on the site of an unloved former sculpture. The District Plan has now evolved, to permit additional height in exchange for design excellence, for which read interesting tops and facades.
The city should include nature. I would like to see balconies made compulsory for new apartment buildings; roofs could be greened, veges grown, birds attracted, colour introduced, and the changing seasons expressed.
The “death of cities” is predicted because of post-covid working from home. But the more office buildings empty out, the more apartments will flourish, as buildings are converted to residential use. Such dwellings are cheaper than new builds, and typically warm, dry, quiet, fire-resistant, affordable, and rentable.
The District Plan is also intended to make the city carbon neutral as soon as possible. Many CO2 emissions come from the manufacture of building materials and construction, another reason to consider adapting and re-using existing stock.
While we still have a love affair with the car, their use in the CBD will decline naturally and alternative transport options will flourish, because buses, taxis and Ubers, cycles, scooters, and skateboards will simply be more efficient ways of getting around. In the 60s, carparks were compulsory for all developments, even bars! The new District Plan has no carparking requirements whatsoever. That’s real progress.
Roads are for cars, but streets are for all. Car movements through the city will be progressively curtailed, and Dixon and Ghuznee Streets will be closed to through traffic. Slow-speed traffic and pedestrians, even jaywalking ones, can co-exist. So we can expect livelier, more resilient, safer city streets.
NIMBY 3x3
The other half of the projected growth will be outside the CBD. This is where the nimbies live, and cling to the quarter-acre mentality that plants a standalone house in the middle of a green donut of dubious use. The infrastructure costs of providing individual services to such sections are huge, and the social rationale is back to front.
The original inhabitants of New Zealand built marae incorporating levels of privacy and community, providing environments for needs ranging from isolation to societal interaction. Just the necessary land was used. The results were true communities.
But European settlers were often fleeing poverty and overcrowded slums. They saw apparently endless land and sought to carve it up between them. People were not seeking community; they built their own little castles as far away from their boundaries as possible.
Many first home buyers in New Zealand cling to a image of the suburban house they grew up in. It’s an unsound concept, and now unaffordable.
Now that now the RMA permits three 3-storey houses to be built as of right on each quarter-acre, it has been suggested we are going to end up “like Mumbai”. With its density of 21,000 persons per sq km, this is clearly preposterous. The current density of persons in Wellington per sq km is 2,000. Sydney and Melbourne are around twice as dense. Yet there are ample green spaces and public areas in those cities, and on average living conditions have improved rather than declined.
Our land use must improve. Moving from lowdensity to medium-density living may mean terrace housing to reduce land waste. But this need not entail any loss of amenity. Acoustic and visual privacy are actually more easily attained with a solid wall between houses, rather than airspace between facing windows.
We should embrace the changes. The evidence is that young voters do, but those who already have their quarter-acre paradise can guard it selfishly. They resist change, they lawyer up, and cite effects on heritage, sunlight, and shading.
District Plans have preserved the quarter-acre model, using blunt instruments such as site coverage limits, recession planes, and height limits. Such controls have been abandoned in many countries, and replaced by the oversight of expert planners. They are qualified to understand real, rather than imagined, effects, and exercise site-specific discretion rather than stopping non-compliances.
Well designed insertions into flabby suburbia are highly desirable. People who can afford their rates and large gardens are not going to be forced to subdivide. The district plan is all about incentives.
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Heritage is not necessarily threatened. Historically significant areas are specified in the District Plan. They can easily be protected, and even enhanced by sympathetic design. View shafts can be established where there is something worth looking at.
In the CBD before the RMA was introduced a developer could transfer the height potential of a nearby heritage building to gain extra floors for a new one. This could be reinstated – it’s an excellent way of preserving a heritage building without adding anything unsympathetic. This country seems to have a demolition mentality, especially regarding seismic risk. “Pull it down and start again” thinking is apparent in the recent demolition of the Athfield-designed Arlington public housing and the close call with his City Library.
Councils seem to want to pre-empt earthquake damage. In the 80+ years from the 1931 Napier event to the Christchurch quakes, and without making light of tragedy, there were fewer than 500 earthquakerelated deaths – and over 12,000 road fatalities. Most seismic closures are less about saving lives than saving insurers’ profits.
Physical necessities aside, our crucial need is to create beauty. Billy Connolly said of the undisputed beauty of nature, “…what interests me more is how we humans added to or detracted from it.”
As an architect, I see imaginative design as imperative. Physical necessities aside, all new buildings should be made as beautiful as possible for the sake of joy and delight. Humans need beauty. It makes us feel complete and in tune with nature.
We have some beautiful buildings already, but we need many more. Heritage buildings tell our stories, and we are building our future heritage. Wellington’s setting and natural attributes are widely envied, not just in New Zealand. This new district plan is a perfect opportunity to enhance our good fortune.
The opinions expressed in my writing are my own, and not intended to cause offence, or to slight any person or institution.
You’ ve got knits
BY SOPHIE CARTER
Put down your phone and pick up your needles — Jo Morris’s purls of wisdom.
Needing only needles and wool, knitting is a take-anywhere hobby. Cast on on the bus, purl in front of the TV, or knit and natter with other devotees at a club. Knitting has been shown to relieve stress, lower blood pressure, and reduce anxiety. Outshining yoga and pottery, a recent study showed the craft to be the most relaxing hobby, decreasing the heart rates of study participants by 18.75 percent. Not only cool and clever, this ancient skill is also eco-conscious, and follows the slow fashion movement, creating items that last. All this, and a piece of cosy clothing to be proud of – even if it has a few dropped stitches otherwise known as holes, just call it a statement.
We’ve got a great knitted vest pattern to get you started. Grab wool and needles and head to capitalmag.co.nz to improve your mind and your wardrobe. Jo Morris first picked up knitting needles to bag a Brownie badge. With her mother on hand to rescue dropped stitches, she made a hot water bottle cover, and was hooked. Now Jo helps others with their crafting dreams and dilemmas, as the owner of Wellington Sewing Centre in Kilbirnie. Thoroughly woven into the public sector, Jo was previously the chair of the Broadcasting Standards Authority and a member of the Waitangi Tribunal, and was awarded an OBE for her services. Swapping her lawyer’s work for a focus on handcrafts, Jo took over the sewing centre in 2016.
Maintaining tension on the yarn will keep your knitting nice and even. Do this by wrapping the wool around the little finger on your right hand so that as the wool passes around the needle it isn’t slack and keeps a consistent tension. Patterns are based on the tension of the average knitter (described as x stitches and y rows to a 10cm square). Discover if you are “average” by knitting a 12cm square, measuring the central 10cm, and counting the stitches. Fewer, you’re a loose knitter, more, a tight knitter. The pattern will indicate which size needles to use. However, if you are a tight knitter you should use slightly larger needles,slightly smaller if you are a loose knitter to get the right tension (as little as one size or 0.5cm either way should work). Needle size change can dramatically change your result.
Wool
Why ‘ply’? The ply of yarn refers to the number of spun strands that are plied or twisted together (e.g. eight-ply means eight fine strands of wool) to form the yarn. This will determine the thickness, texture, and weight of the garment. The most common yarn is 100% wool, but there are many others to choose from. Mixed fibres such as wool/nylon are great for socks; wool/mohair works if you are going for fluffy; and wool/linen makes lighter-weight garments. If you’re a knitting novice it’s probably best to avoid very fluffy wool as the stitches can be hard to separate to correct mistakes. Using chunky wool (such as 12-ply) can be a good way to start – your project will be quicker to complete, giving you impetus and confidence.
Hunters and gatherers
Jess Godfrey, manager of Vic Books, and freelance art director Sven Wiig have curated an interior that celebrates their love of New Zealand art, their travels around the world, and the pieces of modern design they’ve collected along the way. Jess shows us around.
PHOTOGRAPHY BY ANNA BRIGGS
Sven and I don’t always see eye to eye about interior choices. Basically we each think we have the better taste. I knew Sven would object to that wall light so I bought it without talking to him about it. Given it’s such a feature that was quite risky, but I got it where I wanted it in the end and he seems to think it’s ok now. The bottom work is by Wellington artist and friend Ben Buchanan. The top is a Derek Henderson photograph, a leaving present to me from Caffe L’affare. I feel I’ve had some of the coolest jobs in Wellington – from Caffe L’affare, Acme & Co cups, International Marketing Manager of Coffee Supreme, and am now General Manager of Vic Books. Cafés and bookstores – there is no better combination!
The mid-century vanity was a second hand purchase. I travelled to Kāpiti to get it and the guy thought I was crazy to think I could fit it into my Nissan Tiida. There’s nothing like being underestimated to get the adrenalin and motivation going.
I took Sven on a pilgrimage to Copenhagen to stay at the SAS Radisson, the hotel entirely designed by Arne Jacobsen. Sven and I both share Danish ancestry. I thought we’d go to the Louisiana Museum or Tivoli Gardens – you know, usual touristy things – but we spent most of our time in the second-hand shops.
This, Svend Mittelboe “Verona,” is the largest and most spectacular of the seven vintage Danish lights we had to somehow get on our Ryanair flight back to London. Then to Wellington after that! We used to live in a cupboard of a house – it was super cute but tiny and I had always wanted plants but there wasn’t enough space. The entrance to our current house has windows and glass doors on both external and internal sides which makes it look like a conservatory – I knew straight away I would fill it with plants and that Italian terracotta pots would work.
The Boot Room! Where you take off your shoes or remove your rain coat before entering the hallway. The lettering came from a movie set that Sven worked on in 2006. He was Art Directing Taika Waititi’s short feature Tama Tu. They had to recreate a war-torn village and those letters were on the wall of a building that was going to be torn down just days later. Sven saved them. The aluminium coat rack came from a Paris flea market. We store things and find a use for them years down the track. Our coffee table is 1.2m square and came about because we couldn’t find anything we liked that was the right scale for the room. So we designed and built it ourselves. I wanted fine metal legs, and Sven came up with this shape which a colleague fabricated for him. And the marble we decided upon by walking around the Slab Gallery in Seaview. We bought a whole piece and used the off-cuts for two smaller side tables. I count it as our most successful collaboration, and it required very little negotiation between us. Our New York City corner. The Eames rocking chair was purchased on a trip to New York, we really wanted the original fibreglass seat rather than the new plastic ones. We found this army green colour at a shop in Soho and spent all the money we had before realising we couldn't afford to send it back on DHL. So we found some empty boxes on the side of the road, borrowed some tape from the hotel and put it in the hold of the flight we were coming home on. It arrived with a couple of dings but luckily intact!
The framed Manhattan destination blind was salvaged from the Redbird subway cars that were wrecked to form a coral reef.
Our white ceramics collection began with a vase inherited from my grandparents – it had been a wedding present. The first time Sven came to the family home he noted we had a basil plant sitting in a piece hand potted by Keith Murray for Wedgwood – a New Zealand-born architect who found fame in the UK. Sven soon bought a handpotted Ernie Shufflebotham Crown Lynn vase to complement it and the collection just grew over the years – we added modern John Parker works, and more Keith Murrays that we found in the UK, and Shufflebothams bought online and in secondhand shops. Sven had this display case in his props store for years. The painting was something Sven and Karl Maughan talked about. My only contribution to it was that I didn't want too much purple in the colour work. I was totally chuffed when Karl finished it and announced it was called Godfrey Road!
Previous page, top: So much to love in this photo because it’s a very good combination of Sven’s taste (Omega sign and New York subway) contrasted with my items (the Scandinavian candlesticks, Ruth Buchanan paperweight artworks, and small artworks purchased at Precinct 35). Previous page, bottom: Easy access to all our cookbooks. The large copper work is by Auckland artist Gidon Bing. I saw a picture of it online, made the store put it on hold, and told Sven I’d found my birthday present. The light darts off it beautifully. Blue and green should never be seen! We took a long time to find the right wall colour – our living and dining rooms get so much natural light that when we were testing colours on the wall we kept having to find darker colours. We settled on this grey. It’s pretty neutral, and has good contrast against the white doors, windows, and ceilings, which I always like in a room. And it doesn’t clash with the incredibly lush but hideous carpet we inherited from the former owners.
The collection I thought might break us up! I asked Sven to stop at about ten vases and we have over 40 now. Mostly Holmegaard with a bit of Murano and other modernist coloured glass. The sideboard is G-Plan – we found it at a funny shop in Hastings called Better Used Furniture. The painting is by Tom Sladden – I had told the former owners that I wanted it about ten years before I managed to purchase it from them. They were moving to a new abode that didn’t have a wall big enough.
The JS Parker on the left is the first painting I ever bought, I think. There was a very large JS Parker outside one of my law lecture rooms. There was something about seeing it three times a week for a whole year that clearly had an effect on me, because when I saw this smaller piece of his I had to have it. I knocked on the door of the gallery the day it was being installed and had purchased it before the opening event. Martin Poppelwell top right and a Wayne Youle I bought for Sven bottom right. I like the way the three pieces look together. Soren Magnus Balthazzar Wiig – world’s cutest dog. Sven and Otto, and even Otto’s grandparents campaigned for a dog for our family. I wasn’t keen but decided if we had to have a dog I’d have to find the breed that worked for our lifestyle. I settled on a miniature schnauzer because they don’t shed hair, they’re small which doesn’t freak anyone out and they only need a reasonable amount of exercise each day. Turns out I am even more crazy about him than Sven and Otto.