FLUX No. 7 Taboo

CHICKEN FIGHT

The bloody fun of country gambling

PAKALOLO PURVEYORS

A look inside Hawai ‘ i’s marijuana market

•

ANCESTRAL LINES

Tracing genealogies to pave our future

WATER WRITES

Urban art creating awareness

CHICKEN FIGHT | 34

BY SONNY GANADEN

Tough banned by state law, chicken fghting is a cultural and historical practice ingrained into Hawai‘i's heritage. Writer Sonny Ganaden steps into the ring, exploring the macabre, bloody sport of country gambling.

PAKALOLO PURVEYORS | 37

BY JADE ECKARDT

Growing and selling marijuana is a lucrative business, but is it worth the risk? Jade Eckardt takes an inside look at Hawai‘i’s illegal cannibis market and how it has been afected by the legalization of medical marijuana and the everchanging drug market.

WATER WRITES | 42

BY ANNA HARMON

Grafti artists, long viewed as a menace to property owners both public and private, are using their spray cans to advocate for water rights around the globe through Estria Foundation’s Water Writes project.

ANCESTRAL LINES | 48

BY SAMSON REINY

For Hawaiians, the mo‘ok ū ‘auhau , or genealogy, is sacred and meant to be secreted away. Samson Reiny, against all Hawaiian kapu, dug into his past, tracing genealogical lines to understand his present and future.

INSIDE OUT | 54

PHOTOGRAPHY BY AARON VAN BOKHOVEN

A series of portraits capturing people we encounter every day and how they are badass, inside and out.

COLORING OUTSIDE THE LINES | 64

MAKEUP BY JESSICA HOFFMAN, PHOTOGRAPHY BY BRANDON TABIOLO

When it comes to the art of beauty, there is no such thing as taboo. A beauty story that defes makeup conventions.

Rice Chinen and Joseph K. Pa‘ahana featured in Inside Out, shot by Aaron Van Bokhoven. Location: Niche Models and Talent.

PHOTO BY JOHN HOOK

Elizabeth C. Curtis holds a photograph from the upcoming group show at the Gallery of Hawaii Artists, Perpetual Reflections, Sept. 19 to Dec. 26.

EDITOR’S LETTER MASTHEAD LETTERS TO THE EDITOR CONTRIBUTORS

WHAT THE FLUX?! | 14

XXX CHINATOWN

LOCAL MOCO | 16

KUMU HULA

NOTABLE WORKS | 18

R&D HAWAII

FLUXFILES : FASHION | 20

EVENING INVITATION

FLUXFILES : ART | 22

KEITH TALLETT

FLUXFILES : ART | 24

PERPETUAL REFLECTIONS, GOHA

FLUXFILES : MUSIC | 28 K-LUV

GREEN ENVIRONMENT | 32

PHILPOTTS INTERIORS

TRAVEL | 66

SAKHALIN ISLAND

OPEN MARKET | 70

DECONSTRUCTING | 76

IN THE KITCHEN | 78

CHRIS GARNIER, ROY’S HAWAI‘I KAI

6 RANDOM QUESTIONS | 80 MAN MAN

HALLOWBALOO MUSIC & ARTS FESTIVAL

Estria and Prime met with local lawyers Kapua Sproat and Isaac Moriwake of Honolulu’s Earthjustice branch to research what water struggles in Hawai‘i look like for Estria Foundation’s Water Writes mural. Beyond discussing traditional Hawaiian practices such as the ahupua‘a, they learned about the Na Wai ‘Eha case, a seven-year, ongoing fight backed by Earthjustice to restore stream flow to the “four great waters,” Maui county’s main water sources – Waihe‘e, ‘Iao, North and South Waiehu,

and Waikapu streams. So far, the local communities that Earthjustice represent have convinced the Water Commission to order the restoration of some flow to Waihe‘e River and Waiehu Stream. ‘Iao Stream, where the diversion dam represented in the mural is located, is still being completely drained. To learn more about the water issues discussed here, visit www.restorestreamflow.org. To view the full interview with Earthjustice’s Sproat and Moriwake, visit FLUXhawaii.com.

Living in Hawai‘i, we think of ourselves as being well connected to our Pacific Rim neighbors. At least half of us have family roots in Pacific islands or Asia, yet there’s a part of the Pacific map few of us know. It’s that long stretch of land floating above Japan, pointing northward off the coast of southeast Russia – a massive island called Sakhalin. To find out more about Sakhalin Island, see Jon Letman’s online feature “Pacifica Incognito” at FLUXhawaii.com.

WATER WRITES

Derived from the Tongan word tabu or tapu and the Hawaiian kapu , “taboo” is deeply rooted in Hawaiian and Polynesian culture. On one hand, it refers to the idea of something being forbidden because it is sacred, held in high respect and esteem; on the other, it refers to something being forbidden because it is abhorrent, looked down upon by all members of society. There is such an idea as universal taboo, acts which are so vile you would think everyone to be opposed (i.e. murder, incest, cannibalism, rape), but culture – and human nature – dictates differently.

We are not endorsing or condoning any of the ideas put forth in this issue, but simply presenting topics that are weaved into our cultural heritage. Regardless of whether or not you agree with these practices, these are the experiences that have and will continue to infuse our everyday, some new (as in the case of graffiti’s resurgence as a tool for social change), some old (as in cock fighting’s plantation era history) and some really old (as in ancestral and genealogical kapu dating back to the days of Kamehameha).

The cover for this issue bears no images, and it was deliberately done so, because for most, taboo is relative. We will not find common ground with 100 percent of the people 100 percent of the time. We will disagree. One person’s act of beautification may be another’s desecration; a lifestyle choice made by one may completely disagree with that of another. Still, we must find ways to respect and care for one another. Because that is the only certainty, and one that’s truly Hawaiian.

Enjoy.

Lisa Yamada Publisher/Editor

FLUX HAWAII

Lisa Yamada EDITOR / PUBLISHER

Ara Laylo CREATIVE DIRECTOR

ADVERTISING

Scott Hager

DIRECTOR OF MARKETING & ADVERTISING advertising@FLUXhawaii.com

Erika Forberg

ACCOUNT EXECUTIVE erika@FLUXhawaii.com

CONTRIBUTORS

Jade Eckardt

Wei Fang

Erika Forberg

Sonny Ganaden

Anna Harmon

Sarah Honda

Chris Kam

Jon Letman

Kimiko Matsuda-Lawrence

Samson Reiny

Blaise Sato

Margot Seeto

Blaine Tolentino

Marnie Yamamoto

Jared Yamanuha

COPY EDITORS

Anna Harmon

IMAGES

Jade Eckardt

Gallery of Hawaii Artists

Hawai‘i State Archives

John Hook

Interisland Terminal

Harold Julian

Jon Letman

Sally Lundburg

Brandon Tabiolo

Aaron Van Bokhoven

Aaron Yoshino

CREATIVE

Ryan Jacobie Salon, Landon Fidele

Timeless Classic Beauty, Dulce Felipe & Royal Silver Pure Beauty Ministries, Jessica Hoffman

Multimedia

Matthew McVickar

INTERNS

Geremy Campos

Joel Gaspar

Kimiko Matsuda-Lawrence

COVER TYPOGRAPHY

Lucky Olelo, Ever Ready

FLUX Hawaii, P.O. Box 30927, Honolulu, HI 96820. Contents of FLUX Hawaii are protected by copyright and may not be reproduced without the expressed written consent of the publisher. FLUX Hawaii accepts no responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts and/or photographs and assumes no liability for products or services advertised herein. FLUX Hawaii reserves the right to edit, rewrite, refuse or reuse material, is not responsible for errors and omissions and may feature same on fuxhawaii.com, as well as other mediums for any and all purposes.

FLUX Hawaii is a quarterly lifestyle publication.

WOMEN'S ISSUE

ART & DESIGN ISSUE

“Finally read thru recent @FLUXhawaii issue. @NTLgoldberg lttr re: local art writing = most interesting. more convo on this topic needed.” – @weiweifang

“Reading @FLUXhawaii awesome Spring ’11 issue!!! Art is definitely thriving in Hawaii…so many talented people here!” – @churlee

“@FLUXhawaii The latest issue is the best yet. Great work!” – @christianjacoby

“@FLUXhawaii ALWAYS <3 i intend to read cover to cover. I always appreciate the spread you guys create. It's mindfully filling and inspiring.” – @ ASHLEILOW

“People You May Know” was part of Kara Akiyama’s thesis for her BFA show at UH Mā noa. This FLUX cover was one of the profiles that randomly popped up under Facebook’s People You May Know feed on February 11, 2011. That day, she collected

the thumbnail images of the first 72 profiles that came through. She says of the piece: “I am fascinated by the profile pictures of online social networking. I think they serve as beautiful evidence of self-identity, self representation – human life.”

IN TRANSITION

Photo by Melanie Tjoeng, meltjoengphoto.com

I took this photo at a wedding I was shooting in Byron Bay, which is in NSW, Australia. This boy was throwing around all of the blow-up balls that had been scattered around the room for the wedding, and I just caught him in a really beautiful moment. I came to learn, later on, that he had just lost his father and that this picture meant a lot to his relatives because it showed them in this moment, he was happy.

To view more Reader Photos, go to fluxhawaii.com/reader-photos.

Lunch available all day, 11:30am-4:00pm

Wine by the glass, carafe and bottle Artisan cheese, cured meats, steaks, chops and seafood

Half off happy hour, 4:00-6:00pm daily Free Wi-Fi

Monday - Saturday 11:30 am - Late

JADE ECKARDT

What is taboo to you? Not much.

What was most rewarding about writing this piece for you?

Sharing a story that is usually kept under wraps. When it is told, it’s usually from a legal perspective.

Your feelings while writing this piece: There was a few points where I had to take a step back and make sure I wasn’t revealing too much.

In her first contribution to FLUX, Jade went into the world of marijuana growers for her story “Pakalolo Purveyors” (page 37). Originally from the island of Hawai‘i, Jade currently lives on the North Shore of O‘ahu where she serves as the Moku Editor for the Hawaii Independent.

SONNY GANADEN

What is taboo to you? Miscegenation. (jk!)

What was most rewarding about writing this piece for you?

Not being robbed or maimed.

Your feelings while writing this piece: I had the very rational fear of being shanked by an elderly Filipino man, bitten by a pit bull, shot exiting an illegal operation, arrested, and/or getting bird flu.

Sonny Ganaden braved the world of underground country gambling for his article “Chicken Fight” (page 32). He is a lawyer by trade, printmaker by hobby, and has been contributing to FLUX since Issue I.

ANNA HARMON

What is taboo to you? A party game that makes me extremely anxious. Awful buzzer.

What was most rewarding about writing this piece for you?

Meeting with Earthjustice got me thinking about going to law school for water rights for a hot second – it’s an issue that should be addressed more everywhere, including my small hometown in northeastern Colorado.

Your feelings while writing this piece: When I got to watch Prime working on the final touches of Queen Lili‘uokalani a few days before the reveal, I was floored. This mural is an incredible representation of people at work confronting important issues around the world, and it’s awesome that Hawai‘i was involved in such a locally meaningful way.

Anna Harmon moved to Hawai‘i from Colorado and quickly immersed herself in the urban world of graffiti for her article “Water Writes” (page 42). As a copy editor for FLUX, she has an eagle eye when it comes to commas and other grammatical errors. This is her first major feature in FLUX.

What is taboo to you? Bestiality for me borders on the absolute strange.

What was most rewarding about writing this piece for you?

It felt powerful to give a voice and story to my k ū puna , who have been largely forgotten and yet lived meaningful lives.

Your feelings while writing this piece: There were some nerves when I first started writing this because, for one, this is my first memoir style piece, and secondly, as I mention in the article, these family histories are often kept hidden. But I knew my intentions, and things just felt right after I got going. I’m inspired, always, by my Malulani.

Samson Reiny is an executive reporter at the Hawaii Independent and a contributing writer to Hana Hou magazine. He has produced two radio documentaries on native Hawaiian issues for the National Federation of Community Broadcasters, but nothing prepared him for what he uncovered while researching for “Ancestral Lines” (page 48).

SOUL REVIVAL SOUND SYSTEM '60s

SOUL & ROCKSTEADY GROOVES

APPEARING

MONTHLY AT THE MERCURY BAR

FRIDAY JULY 15TH // SAT AUG 27TH SAT SEPT 24TH // SAT OCT 15TH AND WED NOV 23RD

THE MERCURY BAR

CHAPLAIN LANE AND BETHEL

M-F 3PM-2AM / SAT 9PM-2AM

PHOTO BY JOHN HOOK

SAMSON REINY

WHAT THE FLUX ?!

XXX Chinatown

Chinatown has become a hub for cultural entertainment and enrichment, from worldclass DJs and hip-hop emcees to jazz and indie-rock bands, contemporary dance performances and monthly art exhibitions. But as late as the 1990s, Chinatown was the place to go for a different sort of entertainment, where the locations of some of our favorite watering holes, like The Manifest, SOHO and thirtyninehotel, showcased performances of the more X-rated sort. We spoke with Roy Venters, an artist who has been in Chinatown since the 0s, about the area.

COMPILED BY ANNA HARMON

SOHO USED TO BE TOP GUN IN THE 1970S AND SHOWED LIVE SEX ACTS.

In the 1970s, Hawaii Theater was a porno theater showing films Behind the Green Door and Deep Throat, to name a few.

“Te military called Hotel Street ‘shit street,’ and if you got arrested there you got in huge trouble. But everyone came. Tey called it the $3 poke,” said Roy Venters about the 1930s and 1940s red light district.

“If you ask me, all of these clubs should be embracing their histories because it’s so colorful and so sleazy and so ghetto.” - Roy Venters

UP UNTIL THE LATE ’60S, DRAG QUEENS IN CHINATOWN HAD TO WEAR A BUTTON THAT SAID “I’M A BOY” OR BE ARRESTED FOR FRAUD. THEY WEREN’T ALLOWED ABOVE SMITH STREET.

In the ’70s, 39 Hotel Street boasted a sign that read, “Live Acts of Love.” Four or fve couples would perform live sex acts. Businessmen attended during their lunch hours.

From the 1960s to the late 1990s, Risqué Theater occupied where The Manifest and Lotus Downtown are now. Downstairs featured a porn shop, peep show, and a heterosexual porn theater, and upstairs hosted a gay porn theater.

Bar35 used to be The Swing Club. In the ’50s and ’60s, it featured live music, but as the area declined, it featured porn films and strippers.

The neon sign for Club Hubba Hubba, a burlesque bar popular through the early 1980s, still hangs over the building by Bar35 on Hotel Street.

PAUAHI STREET

BETHEL STREET

BETHEL STREET

HOTEL STREET

Live Sex Couple at 39 Hotel Street. Image courtesy of Omer and Dee

LOCAL MOCO: KUMU HULA

Manu Boyd, Hālau o ke ‘A‘ali‘i Ku Makani

TEXT BY LISA YAMADA | IMAGE BY JOHN HOOK

“People say that the hands tell the story in hula, but I think that is a misconception that arose because the Hawaiian language was less and less understood,” says Kumu Hula Manu Boyd.

“What tells the story in hula are the chanting and the ‘ōlelo, the words. Te hands can be very subtle or nothing at all – just looking, left, right. When fewer and fewer people understood the language, the motions became very graphic: house, rain, fower, smile,” he says, holding his hands to his lips.

Boyd has been dancing hula in Robert Cazimero’s Hālau Na Kamalei since 1978. He graduated in 1995 as kumu hula through ‘uniki (graduation) rites from Cazimero’s halau and established his own school, Hālau o ke ‘A‘ali‘i Ku Makani in 1997. His hālau placed in both kahiko (traditional) and ‘auana (modern) categories and third overall at this past year’s Merrie Monarch Festival.

Tere are two schools of thought in hula: Hula kapu refers to hula that has a restriction placed on it. In ancient Hawai‘i, it was a sacred art, danced by a certain elite connected to the heiau (temple) to please the gods and goddesses, like Pele, the goddess of fre, and Laka, the goddess of hula. Hula kapu also may refer to the private act of passing teachings from teacher to student.

Hula noa , on the other hand, is free of restrictions and meant to be shared by all, which is the school of thought Boyd infuses in his h ā lau as well as in his day job

as the cultural director at Royal Hawaiian Center. Still, he acknowledges the kapu he imposes on himself and the quality of the hula he presents: “We’re not going to bring out the plastic maile lei or do anything that’s contrived. If we are going to do it, we’re going to do it good .” Boyd has initiated a program at Royal Hawaiian called Hula Kahiko at Helumoa, where hula kahiko is danced every Saturday. “This is our home, and so whether you’re from Kentucky, K ā ne‘ohe or Korea, we want you to come because this is the real deal.”

Hula was banned under the rule of King Kamehameha II when he abolished ‘ai kapu and traditional Hawaiian religion. When the Calvinist missionaries arrived in 1820, they called hula noisy, unharmonious, and used to promote lasciviousness and had laws passed requiring the need for a permit to perform hula publicly. Hula performances were driven underground until King David Kalākaua, also known as Te Merrie Monarch, for which the famous hula competition is named, revived hula as a living tradition.

Tere are many myths associated with the origins of hula, but Boyd associates with the legend of Hi‘iaka, who performed a swaying dance in the district of Puna to appease her sister Pele. “Tese myths are extremely detailed and with no written language form, Hawaiians relied on oral tradition, incorporating chants and dances to preserve them – sort of the MTV of the day.”

As it has done since the days of old, hula will continue to evolve. “We live in a time of hula that has very little restrictions,” he continues. “It’s no longer driven by the people who are the heritage, the bearers of tradition, but they can coexist, and they do. Aunty Ma‘iki Aiu Lake, Robert Cazimero’s kumu, said this: ‘Hula is the art of Hawaiian dance. It expresses all we hear, see, smell, taste, touch – hula is life.’”

“Hula is both art and heritage, subjective and objective at the same time.” – Kumu Hula Manu Boyd practicing with his halau at UH Mā noa’s Hawaiian Studies building.

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Conceptual drawings of non-profit Interisland Terminal’s recently opened space R&D, a coffee shop and workspace for everyday innovation in Kaka‘ako.

NOTABLE WORKS

R&D: Redefning the Working Hour

TEXT BY KIMIKO MATSUDA-LAWRENCE | IMAGES BY INTERISLAND TERMINAL

What does R&D stand for? For most people, Japanese comfort food is probably not the first thing that comes to mind. Then again, the folks at non-profit Interisland Terminal aren’t most people. So, when I ask founders Wei Fang and Ben Trevino about the origin of their newest project’s name, I get a rather unconventional response.

“Rice and daikon!” they chime in simultaneously. Only the chuckles that follow this proclamation convince me they’re not serious.

Ben explains, “Te traditional defnition of R&D is ‘Research and Development.’ We thought that it would create the right mindset when somebody walks in. … Tey’re going to be thinking that they’re uncovering something, fguring something out.”

This is exactly what R&D is all about: discovery and innovation. The space was recently opened as a resource for Honolulu’s creative community, a “laboratory and workshop, with a degree of transpar -

ency to it,” according to Fang. It includes a handcrafted coffee bar, an arts and design bookstore, and flexible workspace for patrons. The space will also host Interisland Terminal programs and events.

With its simple yet modern look, R&D is designed to evolve, incorporating grid-like box structures throughout that can be rearranged within the workspace. “Te last thing we wanted to do was make this too fashy or self-conscious a design,” says architect Mark Little. “Te real creative innovation will come from what happens inside.”

Inside this “shared mobile ofce” is where the behind-the-scenes work occurs, which Wei acknowledges is “90 percent of what our creative community does.” Here, creative communication, collaboration, and “crowdsourcing” problem-solving approaches are encouraged, and a community of individuals draws inspiration from one another.

So whom might we see when we walk into R&D? “More of the creative commu -

nity,” says Fang. “A filmmaker, a writer –somebody who has an affinity for the arts, who thinks differently.”

Apparently this includes architects Mark Little of 8 Inc. and Kevin Miyamura of Kevin Miyamura Associates, who came together in a rare collaboration to design the space. “We expect that each time we stop by R&D we’ll learn something new or meet a new face,” says Little, “and get a great cup of coffee while we’re at it.”

Help fund everyday innovation. Your contribution of 10, 20, 50 to 200 dollars will help R&D better serve our creative community. For more information contact info@interislandterminal.org or visit interislandterminal.org.

R&D

691 Auahi St. in Kaka‘ako

Cross streets are Coral and Keawe Hours: 7am-7pm

John Hook, The Usual Suspects (2011) Digital archival print, 16" x 20"

Not your typical bunny-foo-foo, Evening Invitation is a new handbag line by Farida Ong. Handbags are made of authentic rabbit fur. Modeled by Momoko Metzker.

FUR-ESH FASHION

Evening Invitation

Feeding a fashionista’s hunger for fresh couture can be a challenge for top designers. For fashion designer Farida Ong, it was “in the bag!”

Evening Invitation is the latest fur handbag collection by Ong. The collection is designed for chic women, who enjoy the excitement and serendipitous nature of nightlife. The handbags, which are custom designed and made of authentic rabbit fur, range from $120 to $210.

The 30-year-old, Chinese-Indonesian designer grew up in Southeast Asia until age 15, then moved to Hawai‘i until her early 20s. At this time, she moved to New York City to work for the high-fashion house Fendi. “I hope my pieces will tell a story of the places I’ve been,” she said.

Several years ago, Ong found herself in a taxidermy shop in the heart of Paris. Ong spoke fondly of the shop and the refined streets of France. As she graciously shared her appreciation for life and travel, it became evident there was a simple force that enticed Ong to design and create: curiosity. “I’ve always been curious about raw products, and what they can make,” she said. In the midst of globetrotting, experimenting with raw materials, and expanding her existing collection, Ong evoked inspiration from timeless European fashion houses.

Interestingly, her journey did not reek of the stereotypical struggles most emerging designers face. It simply radiated love for top-notch materials and portrayed a tale of creative osmosis.

Undermining my appreciation for

fur, and the fact that I had been singing “Little Bunny Foo Foo” in my head once (or twice), I asked the down-to-earth designer, “Why not use faux fur?” The logic is simple, she explained: Using faux fur eliminates harsh criticism from animal rights activists; criticism increases the demand for Evening Invitation, because as the saying goes, “There is no such thing as negative press.”

Tere is a checkpoint in every designer’s career, generally after creating a masterpiece, when the oh-shit-I’m-not-Emilio-Pucci-Ican’t-create-what-I-envision reality strikes. While sitting down with Ong, I humbly expressed this theory. Ong nodded politely and calmly stated, “If it is not for everyone, it’s not for everyone. … I just have to accept that,” she said. “I have a very human approach to nature, I know my limits.”

Although Ong is far too modest to boast her success, I quickly congratulated her after discovering she had signed with a buyer on the East Coast. After a deep sigh and a grin she said, “I just want to be good at what I do.”

She continues to celebrate what she calls her “Hawaiian homecoming” by saying, “For me, home is where I live at the moment. Let’s hope this moment lasts a very long time.”

Fashionistas can fnd their favorite animal prints and colors at eveninginvitation.com or contact Farida at evening.invitation@gmail.com.

Artist Keith Tallett outside the Honolulu Academy of Arts, where he has three pieces in the Artists of Hawai‘i 2011 show. Shown with a surfboard he shaped, designed and glassed. Opposite page: Tattoo Williams, series, archival inkjet photograph, 2010.

HOMEGROWN CONTEMPORARY

Keith Tallet

The Honolulu Academy of Arts is tranquil at 11 o’clock in the morning when I meet artist Keith Tallett. He is tall, sports a shaved head, and his attire – a black graphic T-shirt, colorful surf shorts and Reef slippers – throws me off for a second. We trade pleasantries and jet towards the gallery in the back of the museum, where three of his pieces are on display as part of Artists of Hawai‘i 2011.

Inside, people weave through the pedestals and false walls, their eyes hopscotching from photograph to painting to sculpture. Tallett walks towards a glossy, monolithic slab and stands right in front of it. The fetishistic finish of the piece, made of layers of resin and fiberglass, glints under the spotlights.

“It’s kind of counter-cultural and lowbrow,” says Tallett, referring to his using the materials and procedures of surfboard shaping in his paintings. He is soft-spoken yet articulate, with a penchant for peppering serious art talk with local colloquialisms. The painting, I realize, is not hanging flat against the wall; it’s propped up against it, like a surfboard.

“It’s a three-dimensional form that you interact with,” says Tallett, who didn’t want his pieces to simply rest flush against the wall in the way that, say, traditional paintings do. He insists that his works proffer an experiential element, and it’s true: Stand close enough, and the patterns and surface envelop you. “That’s the whole thing about surfing and the materials I

use,” Tallett adds. “You have to experience it, you have to feel it.”

Growing up in Hilo, making art wasn’t a part of Tallett’s life. In fact, the idea of being an artist didn’t occur to him until college, in Los Angeles, where he took his first painting classes. He realized his experiences in Hilo primed him for life as an artist. “Hawaiian or plantation culture did very resourceful things, but they never called it art,” he says. “My dad made skateboards and surfboards, and it wasn’t like painting them was hip or artistic, it was just out of necessity.”

Tallett returned home, obtained his bachelor of fine arts degree in painting from University of Hawai‘i, Hilo, then headed back to California, where he pursued his master’s degree in painting at San Francisco Art Institute. There, he encountered harsh criticism. “I got whooped my first semester,” he remembers.

He returned home, however, and had an epiphany. “When I came back to Hawai‘i on a break, I ended up surfing and making boards, and, ‘uh-oh,’ a light bulb went off in my head.” He soon began to import the procedures and ideas of surfboard construction into his paintings. He cleared out his studio, sold his oil paints, and started from scratch.

While Tallett explains the genesis of his pieces, a crowd of students quickly accumulates around us. It turns out they are a class from Punahou School. One student

asks a question about the patterns Tallett uses, which I naively thought were derived from Polynesian tattoos.

“These prints are all tire marks,” he explains. “They’re actually tire treads.”

“Ohhh,” everyone says, in unison.

“I wanted to have a pattern that’s universal,” Tallett elaborates. “You’re on these patterns that go around, that are used and discarded everyday, and we don’t know anything about them.”

His own artistic practices aside, Tallett and his wife, artist Sally Lundburg, form one-half of Aggroculture – a Hamakuabased art collective – with another art couple, Scott Yoell and Margo Ray. Given the diminutive size and relative insularity of the Big Island’s art scene, it provides them with a support system in a place with very little. “For me and the people in Aggroculture, we need to figure out how to do this and get it out, and just get the audience more aware,” says Tallett.

We part ways. Tallett throws me an open-handed shaka before disappearing into the gallery. I go back, one last time, to look at his paintings. Gazing at the reflective surfaces of his large-scale, candycolored paintings, I think to myself that this is not what ‘local art’ is supposed to look like. Or is it?

For more information, visit keithtallett.com or aggroculture.org.

“The hollow commands ‘Party On’ and ‘Stay Sweet’ hang pathetically, as if they’ve become somewhat anemic over time.” – Kirsten Rae Simosen, Perpteual Reflections at the Gallery of Hawaii Artists.

PERPETUAL REFLECTIONS

Gallery of Hawaii Artists Group Show

Despite the jarringly skimpy state of Hawai‘i’s economy, where art is booming but funds aren’t, there are a few brave artists who are comfortable steering away from the whole and making work in any space available.

Opening September 19, Perpetual Reflections is a group art show featuring Vincent Ricafort, Oliver Coloma, Kirsten Rae Simonsen, Boz Schurr, Abigail Romanchak, Kamea Hadar, John Hook and Elizabeth C. Curtis at The Gallery of Hawaii Artists (GOHA) in the Waikiki Landmark building. The theme is “Identity.” The space is … an office?

“Outside of a few established institutions, there exists very few exhibition alternatives, namely independent and underthe-radar entities dedicated to the young up-and-comings that are so crucial to cultivating a sustainable art scene here in Hawai‘i,” says 22-year-old GOHA director Carolyn Mirante, who is also double majoring in art history and philosophy at the University of Hawai‘i, Mā noa.

After assembling a shared office space for her for-profit business at 19 (a co-op

space that provides an office for businesses that don’t want to involve themselves in the overhead costs of a physical space), Mirante found herself interested in dual use. She wanted to show art. She wanted to curate.

Mirante is an investigator. When questioned, she can recall a large slew of viewing experiences in different kinds of spaces throughout O‘ahu, everywhere from coffee shops to tattoo parlors, museums to lawns. She refers to it as “research.” For Mirante, the investment of time, energy and resources seems obvious.

“Te current group of people around art in Hawai‘i is amazing,” she says. “We’re so lucky to be involved in art during a time when so many people are committed to it. … It’s really a privilege to engage so many diferent types of personalities and experiences.”

For her part, artist Boz Schurr is aiming to assemble the self in this new environment, not assuming that one exists in a static sense. Mirante met Schurr at Schurr’s exhibition for her Master of Fine Arts thesis, titled “100,000 Sidekicks,” which featured 100,000 portraits of Schurr’s face

reading journal entries in a timelapse video.

“In my current body of work, I use the visible color spectrum as a means of expressing the wide range of possible inner personalities,” says Schurr. “I believe this arbitrary classification – yellow, orange, blue, etc. – is very similar to how we catalog personalities and personality disorders. While the spectrum is one band of evershifting, ever-transitioning hues, so are our personal multiples continuous and overlapping, yet discreet.”

Kirsten Rae Simonsen, who studied at the University of Chicago after spending time with traditional painting and drawing in Bali, Indonesia, uses phrases from her past (things written in yearbooks or vapid proclamations through social media) to amplify the experiences that speak to American affluence and the vapid interjections that were casually passed between young people in an attempt to look assimilated.

“The hollow commands ‘Party On’ and ‘Stay Sweet’ hang pathetically, as if they have become somewhat anemic over time,” says Simonsen. “A wrong move, an offhand

Oliver Coloma, a tattooist and teacher who has been showing his art since 2004, is one of the artists featured in the Gallery of Hawaii Artists’s Perpetual Reflections show.

comment that gets misinterpreted, and you’re out. Social networks create cliques and alliances sometimes similar to those in high school.

“My work reflects my mixed feelings about my own Midwestern suburban past,” Simonsen goes on. “Most of the lifechanging experiences I had growing up in the suburbs occurred in a cul-de-sac, at the Denny’s, in the shopping mall, at suburban birthday parties, or in cars.”

As much as Simonsen’s ideas of identity are culled from the everyday, so too are Elizabeth C. Curtis’s images. Curtis, who is in the MFA program for photography at UH Mā noa, tries to encapsulate the performative quality of an individual’s identity in different environments, showing that awkwardness can prevail despite contextual comfort.

“The widespread use of photography in the last century has led to an anxiety surrounding the documentation and preservation of life’s fleeting moments and has served as a catalyst for the cultural phenomenons of visual identity and image construction and comparison,” says Curtis. “Creating memories, and thereby identities, whether by doing or by documenting, is an intrinsic part of contemporary life.”

Perpetual Reflections runs from September 19 to December 26. For more information, visit galleryofhawaiiartists.com.

Hawai‘i hip-hop is doing it all. Emcees are hungry. Producers are hungry. Everybody is hungry to show the world what Hawai‘i has.” – Big Island-born K-Luv recently moved to Los Angeles as a signed artist.

SEEING IN PICTURES

K-Luv

Big Island-born Kealoha Mahone, perhaps better known by his emcee identity of K-Luv, just moved to San Francisco to record an album as a signed artist. His mixtape You Don’t Look Like You Rap came out earlier this year, as well as teaser singles off of the Pro and K Came to Rhyme EP. He is going on tour in November.

Despite his accomplishments of the past, present, and what will be of the future, 27-year-old K-Luv’s emphasis always goes back to humility. In an interview with him, the importance of his family’s working-class background comes up repeatedly. “I grew up extremely poor. I went through a lot of my life without having anything, and having to work really hard for everything,” he says.

K-Luv never forgets his humble roots. He chooses his words and phrases carefully, even feeling uncomfortable using the word “fans” to describe his musical supporters due to the separation it puts between them. Though he acknowledges, “I’ve been blessed to gain all the popularity I have.”

Having first encountered freestyling after joining the military out of high school, K-Luv has since tried his hand at various types of rapping, from battling to music-making. He says of his musical evolution, “I feel like I had my time in each of them. There was a point when all I did was freestyle in ciphers, freestyle in the park, freestyle in the car, freestyle when I woke up. At one point I was battle rapping a lot.” And about his music now, K-Luv says,

“I’m more in the music-making phase. I’ve grown a lot in the sense of artistry. I’ll sit for days or weeks on a song. I’ll spend a lot of time formulating a concept ... I storyboard my own videos. I try to help direct. I have no film experience, but I’m always involved in the process. It’s just the way my brain works. I see in pictures.”

Te things K-Luv sees in pictures vary greatly, as they would for someone with a diverse range of interests and for someone who is sensitive to what is happening around him. From the dark and serious song “Nothing” to the light-hearted “Rollin Stoned,” KLuv says, “I am a storyteller. I defnitely feel like that’s one of my gifts. I would defnitely consider myself a lyricist.” For the upcoming LP, K-Luv says, “It’s gonna be about life, really. I’ve been through a lot of things on my short time on Earth. Tere are a lot of things that don’t get spoken about in music. Life struggles, making that paycheck, wanting to follow your dreams, needing to take care of your family, the struggle of the common man, the common man being the champion. If you put your mind to it, you can achieve it,” he says.

“My mentor told me that I write on my mirror, on my phone, in my notebook. He said, ‘You’re gonna make music that’s gonna change music.’” This is not to brag, but is a sharing of a reflection that simply stems from his true dedication to his craft. He puts his all into his music, and forms his relationship with his fans through that

genuine exchange of love. He says, “I tell everybody at all my shows, ‘I’m gonna show you I’m putting every last drop into everything I’m doing here. You pay me back by showing me you have a good time.’”

And this love to people who love his music also spreads to K-Luv’s feeling toward other Hawai‘i hip-hop artists. His Twitter profile has “50StateKidz” written in the name field. As to what it means, KLuv explains, “It’s something we say a lot at shows, ‘We’re 50th state kids.’ We’re all kids from Hawai‘i ... When you meet someone from Hawai‘i when you’re on the mainland, you’re immediately connected. We don’t need to be north, south, east, west, mauka, Big Island. We need to be Hawai‘i. I’m really stoked to be part of that movement.

“Hawai‘i hip-hop is doing it all,” he continues. “We’re making fun music, serious, topic-oriented music, party music, dark songs. Emcees are hungry. Producers are hungry. Everybody is hungry to show the world what Hawai‘i has. ”If any of his work doesn’t speak to that – his music with his Prolific Unknowns partner Big Mox, his upcoming EP with Kwalified of Ill Hill Society, his constant flow of mixtapes, the upcoming LP, or any of his other numerous projects – then K-Luv isn’t a storyteller. And by now we know that’s not true.

Keep up with K-Luv at kluv808.tumblr. com, soundcloud.com/k-luv-1 or on Twitter @KLUV808

LEEDING BY EXAMPLE

Philpotts Interiors

TEXT BY LISA YAMADA | IMAGES BY JOHN HOOK

Anne Tanaka, a LEED accredited professional and interior designer at Philpotts Interiors, is in the middle of telling me about a slew of eco-friendly products when the lights suddenly shut off. “That’s another green feature,” she says with a laugh. “Light sensors!”

It’s a perfect example of how Philpotts Interiors, an interior design firm that has been vanguard in their approaches to green building and sustainable design, has been leading the way: by being the example themselves.

If you’ve grown up anywhere near Nu‘uanu, you probably have fond memories of getting okazuya from Kaneda’s. After the delicatessen shut down in the ’90s, the building fell into disrepair and was riddled with grafitti tags and looked as if it should have been condemned. With a keen interest in historical preservation, owner Mary Philpotts-McGrath decided to renovate the decrepit building, retrofitting it with photovoltaic panels to convert sunlight to energy; double-glazed windows, which cut down on electrical consumption; low-VOC paints, which minimize harmful effects to inhabitants and the ozone layer; and low-flow water

fixtures, which reduce water consumption.

“Preservation and learning from the past is extremely important,” says Mary, “and this building was all about taking care of and nurturing things. This concept stems from the ahupua‘a, where you’re managing your resources well, like the water and ocean, soil and plants. As an island, we have to do that. It’s extremely important that everybody participates and we all take care.”

Though green design and LEED certification resources are prevalent now, it wasn’t always this way. At that time, there wasn’t any place for Mary and her team to learn about LEED certification, but they were so committed to green design that they ended up bringing a team in from the mainland to teach themselves about the process. “It’s not just doing the right thing for the environment,” says Mary, “but also creating spaces that are healthy for your employees.”

For more information on Philpotts Interiors, visit philpotts.net

Philpotts Interiors’ Green Team. From left to right: Lori Lee, Kanani Miura, owner Mary Philpotts McGrath, Anne Tanaka and Laura Trudeau.

The Philpotts Interiors office continues to pave the way for a greener Hawai‘i. Its location on School Street is LEED certified.

TIPS FROM PHILPOTTS INTERIORS’ GREEN TEAM

Philpotts Interiors has implemented a Green Team whose goal is to get people more motivated and educated on how to incorporate green design into everyday life. Here are some recommendations from the designers, all of whom are LEED accredited:

Lori Lee : Being green doesn’t have to cost a lot. Don’t be afraid that you can’t afford it. Little things, like hanging your clothes to dry, are a good move in the right direction. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but if everyone did it, it would make a huge difference.

Kanani Miura : Buy local. Using things around you rather than shipping it conserves energy and doesn’t contribute to greenhouse gases.

Laura Trudeau : I would highly recommend going to U.S. Green Building Council’s website: greenhomeguide.com. USGBC can have a lot of jargon and is geared toward industry professionals, but greenhomeguide. com is more for the everyday person.

Despite state law banning cock fighting, it is indeed a cultural event with clearly defined ritual and social norms. An undisclosed location.

CHICKEN FIGHT

Te macabre, bloody fun of country gambling

TEXT BY SONNY GANADEN

Name has been changed to protect identity of source.

Of all the creatures we have domesticated, we disport with chickens the most cruelly. Last year, an odd resolution in the State House of Representatives that would have honored cockfights as a “cultural activity” brought out the most entertaining testimony of the session from seasoned country uncles. Much of what they said was correct. Noting the historical record, it is true that staging dumb foul to fight for entertainment is indeed a cultural event with clearly defined ritual and social norms; that Honest Abe Lincoln got his nickname from his fairness in the cockpit; that the intestines of Captain Cook were used to line a cockfight ring before the rest of the body was buried at sea; that after a dehydrated day hacking at overhead razor sharp sugar stalks, immigrants to Hawai‘i had gotten a macabre kick out of fighting chickens by blowing their plantation scrips on homegrown livestock. It is also true that the vices associated with fighting chickens are real problems – if one needs to launder a few thousand dollars during the weekend, a chicken fight is where to be.

The practice continues despite several state laws banning organizing and betting and federal law passed in 2007 that made it a crime to transfer cockfighting implements across state or national borders. Chickens and humans can still travel freely, and there is no shortage of provincial crafters who specialize in the creation of gaffs and knives of various sorts. During long rides through the country, I was informed: “There are gaff fights, knife fights, and Mexican gaff fights. Out here we mainly see knife fights. These things are razor sharp on both sides, about 2-and-a-half inches long,” as my guide motioned his pinky finger in the eerie curve of a velociraptor claw. When I asked what they were made out of, he replied, “matters who’s making it – usually from suspension springs.” One quickly realizes

that this is an activity almost impervious to legislation as all one needs to fight a cock is another cock and some modified auto body parts. As for a “Mexican gaff,” apparently the chicken version of Norteños vs. Soreños, it involves an inch-long mini ice pick and protracted stabbing. ***

My underground guide into the glamorous world of fghting chickens was Benson, an unpretentious, stocky fellow who, despite cultural shifts toward altered racial nomenclature, is still quite comfortable selfdefning as “Oriental.” Fight scheduling can be a sporadic endeavor as attendees and organizers have very real concerns about avoiding detection and prosecution. My frst trip with Benson was to an event that was a three-hour mission from town to the back roads of Wai‘anae Valley, near to where “that Samoan pig farmer got convicted of slavery,” a friend later pointed out. Although the event was unsuccessful and dispersed due to fears of a police raid, Benson gave me a three-hour master’s course in fghting chickens, from the two year preparation (every day) and the cost of feed (it can add up), to the careful, almost loving attention placed on a dying bird by a trained handler during a fght. It was then that I learned the local nuances of a practice as old as chicken and rice for dinner. We rescheduled for the next weekend.

Six days later, there was little chance of catching any sleep as I was up freeassociating and Googling the various ways people are injured or killed gambling on the islands: One guy burned in his car for deserting a debt; one guy shot on the side of the road after a big win; an old man whose calf was “butterflied open” by a wayward fighting chicken with a customized razor affixed to its leg. The threat of being

I still had in mind that a cockfght would be an after-dark, furtive afair: squatting men betting and drinking and sweating out the brutal suspense under the cover of night.

maimed or killed took all the joy out of participant observation methodology. I attempted some self-motivation by remembering one of life’s inconvenient truths: that if you follow all the rules, you probably won’t have any fun.

Summer heat rose up from the road as we took off for the fight. Honolulu’s fringes progressively crumbled in the rear-view mirror, from high rises to midcentury suburbs to sodden fields of dense vegetation. These in turn gave way to a flanking of undeveloped private property and the onshore sea. The land became spare enough to where one could actually imagine a dark, mysterious spot on the satellite map, some faraway place on this densely populated island where our phones’ service indicators would be out of bars. Then the windmills began to rhythmically slash at the horizon – New-Age, shining Pololu protecting the northernmost point of the island – and we took a hard turn down a dirt road.

Even after the previous trip and all I had read, I still had in mind that a cockfight would be an after-dark, furtive affair: squatting men betting and drinking and sweating out the brutal suspense under the cover of night. Benson cut the wheel sharply, taking us off the road and down a dirt one-lane in the broad daylight, navigating by an instinct that took us from the state highway. “I bet it’s there,” I said like an idiot as we passed a thicket and a herd of pickup trucks parked

at odd angles, like nervous horses ready to bolt, came into view.

Once one knows what to look for, a derby fight in the country is one of the worst-kept secrets on the rock. We walked with half a dozen other local guys through the property, passing poi dogs loosely leashed to hand-built sheds and feral cocks who kicked up the alkali dust in their wakes. Dozens of triangle-shaped pens were in neat rows, with chickens leashed by the leg to their bases, with ropes just long enough so that they could jump to the top and crow their gizzards’ content. Men in surf trunks and work boots carried coop boxes holding three chickens each, the size of a disco-era subwoofer. There were several tailgates open for party mode in the field, and the unmistakable tang of pork adobo lingered in the air. Seemingly innocuous as a country picnic.

Beneath the surface of the country gathering, I sensed a deep well of transgressive danger. Maybe it was the ruddy local boys exiting a lifted truck that looked like something driven by a Libyan rebel? The flash of 3-inch blades being attached to strutting chickens? The row of men resembling an outdoor police booking station waiting for action? In retrospect, the veil of lawful safety was lifted when I caught sight of a thin, elderly Asian woman who sat in a plastic chair in the center of the ring, lazily smoking a Marlboro and eyeing the entrants as the sun slanted over the pit. I avoided eye contact with her as I did most everyone else, half expecting her to point a long, bony forefinger in my direction like something out of a Stephen

King novel, outing me as a writer and causing my fact to melt.

***

At the weighing tables, I caught sight of the fighters. These “chickens” are not the banal type embroidered on aprons or playfully printed on a pack of thighs at Sac-N-Save. More than anything they are war birds, bred according to decades-old stud books for strength and streamlined for combat. To the uninitiated, the cocks all looked the same until they start dying differently. But to the handlers, there were differentiations in breed, height, weight and ability that determined the matches for the day, thousands of dollars riding on each bird.

As things got going, there was a definite code of accepted conduct to the rowdiness, and one would have to be diagnosed with something out of the DSM-IV-TR (ie: crazy) to pick a fight. Though loud, the betting was far from crazy. It seemed that everyone there was picking up on the nuances of chicken, handler and referee that intuited how to direct funds, not unlike a low-end stock exchange. The yells of “jes! jes!” interlaced with harsh Ilocano accents raised the level of claustrophobia significantly.

More than racial signifiers, there was a certain hardness to the crowd: working class, middle-aged local men with the occasional facially tattooed drug dealer mixed in for third-world effect. After feigning an interest in sharing a smoke with someone a few chairs down, Benson

More than anything, they are war birds, bred according to decades-old stud books for strength and streamlined for combat, with thousands of dollars riding on each bird.

As the elegant man’s fghter began spitting up blood, he held it upside down just long enough to suck blood out of its beak and encourage it to bite its opponent.

later told me that the fellow I was chatting with was the owner, and that “he knows your face now, so you’re good to sit there.” Oh great. Off to the left, an excited better told me, “My P.O. told me this is healthier than drugs. I didn’t go to a fight for three years and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Brah, stay so excited!” As he spoke, I could not help but notice that he was thumbing more hundred-dollar bills in his hand than he had teeth in his mouth.

For those of us with a modern life unaccustomed to the casual nearness of death and violence, the pit appears to be a brutal environment. For some handlers, though, working a chicken looked as easy as operating a remote control. An elegant, white-haired Filipino man in black wranglers, a spotless sweater and bloodspattered tan cowboy boots looked like everything a chicken cutman would be. As he entered the pit with the underdog cock, he looked much more composed than the young braddah in slippers nervously cradling his big red. As the elegant man’s fighter began spitting up blood, he held it upside down just long enough to suck blood out of its beak and encourage it to bite its opponent. He spat the purple clot onto the dirt, searing an image onto

my mental retina that I’m sure to recall anytime I fear dinner is not cooked through enough. Although doomed, his cock won the fight with his veteran skills.

After a few quick rounds, the elegant Filipino man re-entered the pit, and I almost got into the spirit of losing money. That was until Benson informed me of the quick hand signaling required to enter the fray. He explained: “A finger up means ‘jes,’ which today is $100. A finger down means $1,000. Two fingers down: $2,000 ... so umm, maybe best if you just don’t use your fingers.” With that in mind, I kept my digits neatly folded on my lap while the dust flew and the toothless ex-con to the left of me made it rain Benjamins after winning an upset against a 300-pound heavy across the pit. “We all going eat good tonight!” he exclaimed, with me nodding in silent approval, careful not to give a thumbs up for fear of owing someone the rent under enforcement of the syndicate.

By the fourth fight, I had grown tired of the bloodshed. So too had the blonde cock being handled to attack his already critically-wounded opponent. Despite some clever flicks to attempt a reaction, he stopped biting back and began to peck the ground, looking like he wanted nothing

more than to go back to being a humble, big-boned chicken from Waim ā nalo. The Waim ā nalo blonde, like all the other chickens, had no idea this was a fight to the death. Although cocks have a natural bony spur at the back of their feet, there is no Darwinian advantage in killing an opponent of the same species in a matter of minutes. Chickens are existential creatures, somehow forgetting an experience right after it happened. Although they fight, cocks without knives attached to their legs quickly determine a pecking order and continue on their dumb way, forgetting the whole affair and going back to scratching for scraps.

There are such things as stupid questions, and the stupidest one a cockfighter hears usually has to do with what happens to dead birds. Benson told me on the way home, “Everything that goes down in human fights goes down in chicken fights. So you’ve got some guys who try to cheat, there could be poison on the blade or in the bird – definitely something you don’t wanna eat.” As we parted ways, Benson mentioned another fight next weekend and asked if I wanted to go. “No thanks,” I replied, digging my fingers into my pockets to signify no bet.

PAKALOLO PURVEYORS

An inside look at Hawai‘i’s marijuana market

Growing and selling marijuana is a lucrative business, but is it worth the risk? Jade Eckardt takes an inside look at Hawai‘i’s illegal cannibis market, and how it has been affected by the legalization of medical marijuana and the ever-changing drug market.

TEXT AND PHOTOS BY

JADE ECKARDT

All names have been changed to protect the identities of the sources.

A series of locked doors leads to a room cluttered with small, cloned marijuana plants. A 600-watt grow light hangs over three mother plants that are pruned regularly to create exact replicas. A fan whirs, cooling the small plants and moving them gently. These plants haven’t budded yet. They’re under light 24 hours a day to continually grow taller and thicker. The faint scent of marijuana seeps in from a hidden room. Ryan Hunt moves a table and opens a door disguised as a wall. Barely open, a sharp line of yellow light bursts out. Stepping into the grow room is a relief, the air conditioning a break from the 85-degree O‘ahu

weather outside.

Two 1,000-watt grow lights hang from the ceiling, their light bouncing off foil-covered walls back onto the plants. Over 100 budding marijuana plants sit in pots receiving light and darkness at 12-hour intervals, a must to enable the plants to bud. Each plant boasts thick buds, the prized smokable part, covered in a shimmering blanket of crystals. The scent radiating from the highly coveted crop is strong, and according to Hunt, it’s “extremely stoney.” This is high-quality cannabis, what growers and smokers call “crip,” and it’s growing in an average

looking house in an O‘ahu residential neighborhood.

Growers throughout the islands know it’s more important than ever today to cultivate high-quality marijuana to ensure a sale at a good price in today’s illegal cannabis market. Hawai‘i’s marijuana industry has been booming for nearly half a century, producing weed that contains some of the highest THC (tetrahydrocannabinol), or in layman’s terms, the “stuff that gets you stoned,” in the nation. But over the last five years the market has changed, going from a highly lucrative business with guaranteed sales and high

profits to a market so flooded with cannabis it’s tough to get rid of it. It has become a buyer’s market.

Hawai‘i is one of the top five marijuanaproducing states in the United States. For decades, marijuana has been estimated to be Hawai‘i’s single largest cash crop, profiting more than the islands’ top agricultural crops combined. For a long time, marijuana sold for $300 to $350 per ounce on Big Island, roughly equal to $5,000 to $5,400 per pound when bought wholesale directly from growers. Once on O‘ahu, customers paid at least $450 per ounce, and a lot more if it was sold in eighth or quarter ounces. But over the years the market has changed drastically. While growers say the amount of consumers hasn’t decreased, marijuana is available at an all-time high, enabling consumers to be pickier and have more options, causing a substantial decrease in price and sales.

“Now an ounce over here goes for $225 tops, if you’re lucky. Pounds max out at $3,400,” says a grower from Big Island who’s been selling wholesale to O‘ahu dealers for 10 years. He acknowledges that people still want to buy, but there’s just more competition these days.

“Everyone is still buying,” says Hunt. “Smokers haven’t quit. There’s such a high quantity available that sales are a lot harder to come by unless you’ve got really good shit.” Hunt grows a relatively small quantity of high-quality marijuana, harvesting two pounds every two months. He’s one of the few growers today that doesn’t have a problem selling his weed quickly, and for top dollar.

“I’ve got two strains in here: These are the ‘blueberry,’” he says gesturing with his right hand, “and these are the ‘white widow.’ The widow is what the general public wants, but the people who know how good the blueberry is want it bad.” The difference is obvious. Each strain radiates a scent sharply unique from the other. “I’m excited to start experimenting with more strains (varieties). I just ordered a bunch of seeds online, and I’m going to expand my options.” With two days remaining until harvest time, Hunt exudes an air of pride and satisfaction over his crop often reserved for parents reading their child’s

perfect report card. After the plants are harvested, trimmed, dried and packaged, he expects to get anywhere from $400 to $550 an ounce.

A father of two, Hunt has been growing for 10 years while holding down a day job. He runs a successful (and legal) business, but like many Hawai‘i residents in today’s economy, he needs extra income to make ends meet. Hunt isn’t arrogant about the quality of his crop, just honest. “I grow good pakalolo. But I’m on top of it and work hard. I spend a lot of time in here, spend the money on quality fertilizers, and pay attention to detail. When I see plants in need of something or I need to get rid of bugs, I do it right,” he explains.

Looking around his workroom, it’s apparent he takes his job seriously. It resembles a mad scientist’s lab. A slew of clones, only inches tall, sit in saran-wrapped bins waiting to root, and an array of organic fertilizers clutter the shelves. A homemade “bubbler,” a device that oxygenates his water and removes chlorine to bring the plants to their healthiest, stands nearby. “I’m really lucky it’s this good and I’ve got people with connections I trust to sell it for me. They get me top dollar. If your weed isn’t super good looking, smelling and stoney, it can be months before it sells,” he says. “The market’s changed. It’s a hell of a lot tougher to sell weed these days.”

There was a time when selling marijuana in Hawai‘i was a grower’s market. “Five years ago everything would move,” remembers the Big Island grower. “O‘ahu guys would fly over all the time, pick it up and cash us out up front. It’s different now. They all want me to front it to them because they don’t know how long it’ll take to move.”

Marijuana travels the same way people and their belongings do, by commercial planes and boats. “It was a lot easier pre 9/11,” recalls the Big Islander. “You’d just stuff a few pounds in a carry-on and run it through the X-ray, or strap one or two under a sweatshirt and hop on a plane. But security’s higher at every angle now, in the post office, airport, at the boat ports. We’ve gotta be a lot more crafty and sly.”

Growers and dealers both agree that three main elements have changed Hawai‘i’s can-

nabis industry: legalizing medical marijuana (In 2000, Hawai‘i became the frst state to pass a medical marijuana law. Under Hawai‘i law, users with a medical marijuana permit can cultivate up to seven plants and carry three ounces of the dried smokable form.), low-priced pot imported from California, and what Hunt calls, “cash croppers growing what’s usually sub-standard weed in bulk. Tey don’t smoke, and they don’t strive for quality. Tey don’t appreciate good weed. Tey’re in it for the money.”

THE TRIMMER

“My mom got me trimming when I was 14,” says Ann, a college graduate who doesn’t smoke marijuana. As long as marijuana is grown and sold there will be a place for trimmers like Ann. She makes $15 per ounce, or $240 a pound. “I’m fast so if the buds are good I make $15 to $45 an hour. Trimmers are lucky because when the price of pot goes down the growers don’t adjust the trimming pay. “You gotta have good scissors, razors for scraping hash off the blades, good lighting, and rubbing alcohol to clean the scissors,” she says. “It’s an awesome supplemental income. I went to California to trim a couple seasons ago and I made four grand in eight days.”

THE DEALER

“I started dealing at Punahou when I was 16. I’d break ounces down as small as 0.8 of an ounce for $20 and sell it like crazy to the kids at school,” says Matt, a recent UH Mānoa Ph.D. graduate. He’s under 30 and remembers the year he made $45,000 in two semesters dealing at a prestigious California college he attended. “I get pounds for $4,000 shipped over from California via a middleman making a big profit. I turn each one into $7,500. I’ve got a variety of weed I sell for different prices and weights. I try to keep something for everyone.”

Steven Marks is a cash cropper. He has two grow houses on Big Island, 12 lights in one, and 18 in another aptly nick -

Hundreds of plants fill several rooms. The hum of numerous AC units serves as the background music in an otherwise quiet house. A grow house at an undisclosed O‘ahu location.

“There was a time when selling marijuana in Hawai‘i was a grower’s market. Everything would move. It’s different now.”

named, “The Factory.” Hundreds of plants fill several rooms, the hum of numerous AC units serve as background music in an otherwise quiet house. The living room is empty except for a single bed and couch. Take-out boxes are piled up, and a heap of clothes leans against the wall. Marks doesn’t live here, and none of his grow houses have ever doubled as residences. His partner lives here, a younger guy with no girlfriend, kids or day job. He’s the perfect person to disappear for two months at a time, rarely leaving in return for a significant cut of the profits.

Marks doesn’t look like the stereotypical pot grower. He’s clean cut, well-spoken, middle age, and doesn’t smoke marijuana. “Pot doesn’t work for me. I used to smoke, but I’ve moved on,” he says as he inspects his plants. Marks has been growing for about 15 years, only the latter half of which he’s been producing at the level he is now. “It’s a somewhat gradual progression,” he says as he removes a few yellowing leaves. “You don’t just one day decide to go stick 20 or 30 lights in a house, figure out how to ship it off island to sell. It just doesn’t work like that.”

The two houses pump out around 25 to 30 pounds of buds every two months and Marks admits it’s pretty good but not the best. “When you’re pumping out this much product, it’s hard to make it 100 percent, top of the line.” Marks says he sells it for a bit lower than other growers. “I’m a wholesaler running a business, and I need to move it.” The tradesmen-turned-grower says he sells a pound for as low as $2,800 on Big Island, and up to $3,500 on O‘ahu. Marks makes anywhere from $70,000 to $80,000 a harvest.

He acknowledges his factory-like approach to growing makes it tougher on other growers. “I know it makes it harder for the guys pulling off three or four pounds every crop. Their sales are going to change. There have been some competitive moments. There are people bringing loads in – and I mean loads – from California and have staked their claim to parts of O‘ahu. They go to California, find what they want, and ship hundreds of pounds

home. They’ve been doing it for a long time. Dealers get territorial, and they don’t like competition. But we all have to pay our bills, right?” Marks levels.

Northern California’s medical marijuana laws currently allow people with prescriptions to grow up to six mature or 12 immature plants and possess 8 ounces of processed marijuana legally (except where local guidelines specify more). According to Nancy Black who’s been growing in Humboldt County for three years: “Everyone’s growing here. It’s just what you do. Humboldt’s producing thousands of pounds all year long, and right now it’s evolved into a codependent relationship with Hawai‘i.” Humboldt County guidelines allow patients to grow up to 99 plants legally.

Hawai‘i has been an outlet for California-grown marijuana for years. A pound can be bought for as low as $1,800 in Humboldt or Mendocino County, leaving plenty of room for price markup in the islands. It’s not just on the selling end. Each harvest season, Northern California sees an influx of trimmers from Hawai‘i spending several months prepping the pot for sale. Rose Thomas is an O‘ahu resident who will be heading over for her fourth consecutive season this October. “I usually just quit my job at home when Cali time comes and head over for a few months. I make more money in two months there than I make at home in a year. I’d say about 30 girls I know from Hawai‘i go over each season, and that’s just people I know.”

Black says it’s not only medical laws, but the method of growing that enables Californians to cultivate such large amounts of cannabis. “In Hawai‘i, most people are growing indoor with clones that get only about 2 to 3 feet tall. If you’re lucky you get an ounce per plant. Here, everyone’s got a hundred plants or more that are 6 to 8 feet tall and yielding 4 pounds each.”

Marks and Hunt are pleasant people. They’re friendly. They’re family men. Neither exude the menacing personality of stereotypical drug dealers, and the healthy green plants don’t invoke a sense of danger. It’s easy to forget that in Hawai‘i, growers in Marks’ league face up to 20 years in pris -

on for cultivation of 100 plants or more, and the same sentence for selling 5 pounds or more. Even people like Hunt, who grow on a much smaller scale face five years in jail for cultivating up to 50 plants, and 10 years for selling 1 to 5 pounds.

Making a living as a grower may be more lucrative than the average 9-to-5 job, but growers risk everything: family, freedom, and all they’ve worked for. Trust is a grower’s biggest asset.

Marks knows the risks, but he’s an optimist. “I know it could all be gone in a second. But you do what you can to be legit in every other area in life. Keep your name clean, have a cover business. I believe you get what you give, so I’m always fair in life and business. All the people I know who’ve been busted, it’s always someone ratting them out. It’s about trust, and most importantly I never put a crop in my own home,” he says.

Hunt, who has a crop in his home, agrees it’s about trust and laying low. “I try not to deal with anyone new, not trimmers, dealers, nobody. I’ve got my tried-and-true people to work with me and sell it and keep their mouths shut. I’ve got to be modest too. It’s not a good idea to be flashing wads of cash, or have too many big toys.”

As Hawai‘i’s marijuana market and laws continue to change, growers concur that one thing seems to be certain: The demand for weed isn’t disappearing. “The market’s flooded and prices are lower, but people still want their pot,” says Hunt. “Even in a slow economy, people make sure they get stoned. And we’re not just dealing with one type of person or demographic. Teachers, parents, professors, tourists at high end hotels, even the occasional movie or sports celebrity – everyone smokes weed.”

“Who knows what the future holds for us,” says Marks. “Medical marijuana has changed a lot, a multitude of people are growing their own, and it’s easy to get clones and lights. Eventually, maybe everyone will be legally growing their own marijuana, and growers won’t be needed. I might have to find a new job, but I don’t think consumption will ever decrease. People love their weed.”

WATER WRITES

Graffiti artists, long viewed as a menace to property owners, both public and private, are using their spray cans to advocate a different kind of message across the globe.

TEXT BY ANNA HARMON | PHOTOS BY JOHN HOOK

A boom box blasted ’80s hit “Renegades of Funk.” Lifts beeped as artists set up to paint 15 feet in the air. The sun beat down on the concrete and asphalt lot. And Hawai‘i-born-and-raised graffiti artist Estria looked out upon the outline of a larger-than-life Queen Lili‘uokalani, who in turn gazed upon her land.

“For Hawaiians to paint a mural of the queen? Tat’s never happened before,” Estria said. “After we did the outline last night, and we turned of the projector to check it out, I kind of started tearing up. Tat’s our queen. Our queen painted by Hawaiians? Shit, wow. Tat makes it for me.”

But the 4,200-square-foot mural that will stand permanently on a wall donated by company JBL Hawaii isn’t just about the last of Hawaiian royalty. The queen was chosen because she stressed the need for water to remain a public trust resource. The crew of accomplished graffiti artists, who chowed down on Elena’s Filipino plate lunches and ogled handstyles in a graf magazine on this day early in the project, had assembled for Estria Foundation’s Water Writes project. Most of these artists, as well as community resources, were organized locally by graffiti artist Prime and his collective 808 Urban.

By the completion of the month-long project in early July, more than 20 graffiti artists contributed to the mural, the second largest of Estria Foundation’s Water Writes series. With 10 locations worldwide, Water Writes is using graffiti to raise international awareness of water issues – a theme with astoundingly different manifestations around the globe. For example: Disappeared water rights activists in Columbia. The role of mangrove trees for the greater good in El Salvador. The request of schoolchildren in Palestine for drinking water because there wasn’t enough to make it through the day.

For anyone who has seen Style Wars (an

early documentary about hip-hop culture), tags on trucks driving around town, or even a Shepard Fairey lookalike on a random street corner, the Water Writes concept isn’t the expected conversation or scene.

“This guy Vile, in Los Angeles, said these events let people know that graffiti artists aren’t people to be feared,” said Estria. “They’re just regular folks with things to say. And by people seeing graffiti in a different light, like us using it to make a statement, it shifts what their perception is.”

After graduating from ‘Iolani School, Estria moved to San Francisco to study fine arts and illustration. He was arrested there in 1994 for creating his art illegally. When asked if he started spraying walls to be the voice of the people, his answer was simple: “Fuck no.”

ESTRIA FOUNDATION’S WATER WRITES IS CREATING 10 MURAL PROJECTS ABOUT WATER ISSUES IN 10 CITIES AROUND THE WORLD IN ONE YEAR. THE PROJECT STARTED FEBRUARY 2011.

1] Los Angeles, California

2] Oakland, California

3] Honolulu, Hawai‘i

4] Gaza Strip, Palestine

5] Palawan, Philippines

6] San Salvador, El Salvador

7] Window Rock, Arizona

8] Bogota, Colombia

9] Arcata, California

10] TBD

But the arrest helped prompt the combination of his art form and community activism (he worked at YMCA in his youth and said he’s been a community organizer longer than a graffiti artist) when, during

Estria Foundation’s Water Writes mural in Kalihi depicts Queen Lili‘uokalani as part of 10 murals around the world discussing important water rights.

his mandatory community service, he saw corruption in the departments he volunteered with.

“It made me realize that I need to speak out on this and use my art. So I think they got the unintended result,” he said. “Doing these kinds of murals, we engage communities. Youth groups, water groups, artists, they don’t usually interact. You’re increasing the awareness of the community and supporters about each other and the issues.”

Tis is where Water Writes sets itself apart from the current urban art scene, where its artists actually have been catching a break lately. (Teir creations are selling in galleries, being hosted as installations at renowned museums such as MOCA, and being bought up by collectors.) Te use of the art as more than a provocation is rare. Not to say that artists like Banksy aren’t demanding social commentary with their works; but they aren’t calling up community members to ask what direction their topic should take, and if they would like to help. Water Writes maximizes the form’s potential to be a communal, visual catalyst while avoiding the derailing of urban art’s foundation caused by setting it inside an exhibit.

“The museum is the street,” said Eukarezt, a local graffiti-turned-tattoo artist who lives in Wahiaw ā . “And if there’s something behind [what you paint] or something you’re trying to say, that’s going to speak volumes to people because they pass by it every day.”

While taking a break from painting the wall, Krush TWS and Estria also discussed that graffiti is the only art form to go worldwide in just 20 years and that it has been around for more than 40 years. “And it’s not going to stop,” said KrushTWS. “It’s the only art form that’s by the kids, for the kids. It’s rebellious, it’s inspirational, it’s got energy, movement. It’s bam, in your face. Graffiti is what the kids want to do.”

BACKGROUND BEHIND OTHER WATER WRITES PROJECTS:

Gaza Strip, Palestine – Artists are working with the Middle East Children’s Alliance to paint murals at six elementary schools where international solidarity projects have installed water purification and desalination units. Because of Israel’s tight, manipulative grip on the water resources available in Palestine, children and residents aren’t receiving adequate water, and according to MECA, these desalination units are a scarce but necessary resource.

Window Rock, Arizona – Te Water Writes Arizona mural will focus on the San Francisco Peaks, sacred to at least 13 area tribes and important to nearby communities. A Japanese company has built a ski resort on top of one peak, is expanding via clear-cutting, and is building a pipe more than 14 miles long that will use fltered waste water to create artifcial snow for the peak. Tis practice will dirty areas where tribes collect medicinal herbs and feed into farms and local water sources. Recently, six tribespeople were arrested for protesting the development.

Bogota, Columbia and San Salvador, El Salvador – These crews face serious repression; in both locations, leaders of the anti-mining movement and water rights movements have gone missing. In El Salvador, residents fear the cyanide used by Vancouver-based Pacific Rim Mining to extract gold could contaminate local water sources (in the small country, the population relies on primarily one watershed). Here, Juan Francisco Duràn Ayala was found murdered after having hung antimining posters. In Columbia, water rights activist Sandra Viviana is still missing.

Many graffiti artists take on a mentor or even eventually teach the art to at-risk youth. Artists such as Prime, Estria, KrushTWS, Eukarezt and Aaron Woes Martin have run classes and painted murals with kids locally and internationally.

Said KrushTWS, a bomber who lives on Big Island: “People see tagging as such a plague to society, but people don’t understand that taggers would like to be piecers and muralists if they had some guidance, right? So as an example, we tell these kids, ‘OK, you do your tags and six of your friends will be like, ‘that’s cool,’ or you can take it to the next level and do walls and pieces, and the whole community will take notice. It’s getting up on a bigger scale, and it can lead to a career.”

Eukarezt, who also contributed to the mural, has traveled the world to teach and do murals with youth. His classes, which have been held in areas such as Palestine and Australia, are as structured and planned as high school history courses. His lesson plan looks something like this: identity, then signature style, techniques, and to end, the bigger picture, from history to ongoing urban arts.

“For at-risk youth, the areas where they live have graffiti. They see it on a daily basis. The graffiti artists become like folk heroes to them,” said Eukarezt. “If your hometown hero tells you, ‘Hey, I want to teach you something,’ you’d totally be stoked. With a graffiti artist such as Prime or Estria, if they involve the community in painting with them, the kids will be inspired and be stoked to want to do greater things.”

For several of the projects, Estria Foundation has held workshops with youth to come up with the mural inspiration. For the Palestine project, youth at the elementary schools where the murals will be done will even be helping to paint. For Water Writes Hawai‘i, Prime and Estria themselves met with representatives of Earthjus -

WATER WRITES HAWAI‘I

“If graffiti artists such as Prime and Estria involve the community in painting with them, the kids will be stoked to want to do greater things.”

Prime and Estria unveiling the queen at Water Writes Honolulu.

Water Writes maximizes grafti’s potential to be a communal, visual catalyst while avoiding the derailing of urban art’s foundation caused by setting it inside an exhibit.

tice to design the mural. From Kapua Sproat and Isaac Moriwake, they learned that plantations diverted stream water from Hawai‘i sources for private benefit during their heyday, despite the state constitution declaring water as a public trust resource. Earthjustice’s current campaign, Restore Stream Flow, is focused on Na Wai ‘Eha, four water sources on Maui still being drained for the benefit of remaining private organizations. One such diversion dam on ‘ Īao Stream is depicted being broken in two by the F of “Flow” in the mural’s top left corner.

On July 7, Estria Foundation hosted the mural reveal. Hundreds of people gathered. Te Royal Guard stood watch over the queen, who remained hidden by a tarp until the moment blessed by Kahu Kapono‘ai Molitau. Governor Abercrombie even showed up for a brief speech, grasping at the chance to support the arts (though Prime’s 808 Urban program for Palama Settlement youth lost its funding a few years ago) and prop up community collaboration.

According to Banksy, “People say graffiti is ugly, irresponsible, and childish. But that’s only if it’s done properly.” But to look at this mural is to be awed by graffiti: its accessibility, complexity, decades of refined technique and kickass-ness. The mural directs the viewer’s eye from the powerful queen to the water flowing across her chest in a stream to the traditional ahupua‘a to her right. To the left and right of the queen run the words, “Flow mauka to makai.” To her left, renditions of futuristic ahupua‘a and sustainable resources abound. Featured within the work are devices that har -

ness wave energy, a water wheel and wind turbines. The longer you look, the more there is to be uncovered.

Which is good, because the mural will continue to stand on Kokea Street, interestingly located along the Kapalama drainage canal, for all to see, along with the murals around the world – at least as long as their communities fight for them and the water issues the murals embody. “I’d like it to become a movement where we don’t own it, with other people doing murals about water, and they’re not even connected to us,” said Estria. And with kids all over the world eyeing these new murals, chances are water-inspired tags will pop up in the least likely places. It’s up to the community to decide if they want to attempt to pressurewash them away or find a way to welcome the means, finally, with open arms. Creating murals around the world about water? “Fuck yeah,” he said with a laugh.

In fact, all four of the murals so far, from Oakland to Honolulu, have kicked off with a day of rain – or, in the case of the Philippines project, a typhoon. Looks like the rain gods and graffiti artists agree.

For more information, visit estriafoundation. org/waterwrites or restorestreamflow.org.

Royal household guards shown at ‘Iolani Barracks in 1890. In 1887, in a failed plot to replace Kal ā kaua with his sister Lili‘uokalani, Wilcox hid 300 conspirators in ‘Iolani Barracks.

ANCESTRAL LINES

For if someone were to ask a Hawaiian, “Who are you?”, he or she could only meaningfully answer by referring to his or her beginnings, to his or her genealogy and lineage, which is like a map that guides each Hawaiian’s relationship with the world. – Lilikalā Kame‘eleihiwa

TEXT BY SAMSON REINY | IMAGES COURTESY HAWAI‘I STATE ARCHIVES

I was in intermediate school when my grandfather presented to me a thick neon yellow binder hugged by a clear plastic sleeve. Inside, tucked into page protectors, were the vital records of ancestors who lived quite some time ago in places scattered throughout these islands. A cousin of his had given to him this three-inchthick stratum of paper – a couple of years worth of research – chronicling what Hawaiians call the mo‘okū‘auhau, or genealogy.

Some Hawaiian clans inherited old family Bibles whose kūpuna scribbled, for perpetuity’s sake, its margins and back pages with family lineages and ancestral ties. Others are the descendants of matrimonies so renowned in isle history (mostly chiefesses of high rank who married ambitious New England or British men) that anthologies of their pedigrees line the shelves of bookstores and libraries. Grandpa didn’t belong to one of those families, so this knowledge was a gift.

We made headway into two interesting lineages. I could trace our German stock through to the Peiper family, who arrived directly from Bremen on the steamer Ehrenfels in 1883 (the dreadful two-month voyage claimed 21 children). Mom and dad Peiper would toil on the Līhu‘e sugarcane plantation on Kaua‘i for at least three years as contract workers to pay their voyage fees. Grandpa’s maternal grandfather, Charles, who grandpa was named after, would be born at the worker hospital in 1889.

Grandpa’s paternal grandfather, Sebastian, was a whaler who manned one of the many ships that stopped off in Honolulu probably during the boom of the 1850s when whale blubber still fired up oil lamps instead of petroleum. Many crewmembers like him abandoned their hazardous lives at sea and settled on the islands. Sebastian hailed from Cape Verde – a small cluster of islands situated off the coast of West

Africa that had served as a commercial hub for slave ships crossing the Atlantic to the Americas. Like many of his brethren, the blood pulsing through his veins carried hundreds of years of miscegenation between master and captive. Grandpa recalled that his father, Sebastian Jr., a legendary paniolo (cowboy) on the islands, described his dark father as a 6-foot-6 giant of a man; his voice deep and broad like the lowest billows of a tuba.

Yet for all the insights into the lives of my great-great grandfathers, the histories of their Hawaiian wives, who spoke the deep poetry of the native language, who endured the annexation of the kingdom during Queen Lili‘uokalani reign in 1893, remained gated secrets. These women, and certainly their pedigrees, seemed to escape history. I could etch out from marriage certificates that Charles Peiper married a Lucy, and Sebastian married a Julia.

A year ago – and 15 years after I had first learned of their names – I started seeking out my tutus Julia and Lucy and dad’s mom Grandma May, who passed away a decade before I was born. I needed to know, like an orphan would eventually want to know his parents. This attitude is etched in the Hawaiian tradition. My forebears kept sacred and even depended on their mo‘ok ū ‘auhau to guide them.

Our ‘aum ā kua (ancestral gods) and k ū puna, said the late authority on Hawaiian practice, Mary Kawena Pukui, were agents actively guiding, teaching and caring for us.

But what about those from Mā kua? The military had scourged the expansive valley through 60 years of live-fire military training. Mā kua beach was also known as the place where Hawaiians lived. Or where they squatted, depending on who

you asked. In 1996, Governor Cayetano ordered the police and National Guard to remove the residents, and raze their tents if need be, to make way for “the public at large to enjoy.” Many of the displaced were traumatized by being physically severed from a place held in esteem by Hawaiians as their legendary birthplace. The word Mā kua literally means “parents.”

Even as the valley has become enshrined as cause célèbre for activists, and the once inhabitants of the beaches remembered by some as the last of the old guard of Hawaiian homesteaders, the reality on the ground feel more somber. Grandpa had held camp under a kamani tree at Mā kua for ages and survived as a fisherman. And it was lonely there – in the way that you hoped people didn’t forget about you in far-off Honolulu, or even Nā n ā kuli. You wondered if the spirits of our k ū puna remembered those living among the dense kiawe brush and under patched together homes of tarps and cardboard. Would they recognize grandpa, whose prized possessions consisted of wallet-sized photos of his grandchildren and his poi dog companion? And I couldn’t help thinking how their lives might have brought grandpa, dad and I to this place that seemed to stand off the grid at the edge of the world.

Talking with older relatives was the first sensible step in research. It could be awkward, because I don’t know my extended family very well. But people can warm up pretty easily; humility and good intentions can soften both the tight-lipped and the shy. One of Grandma May’s last surviving sisters, once put at ease, opened up

about growing up in Honouliuli in ‘ewa as a young girl and then moving to Mā ‘ili on the Wai‘anae Coast. She remembered hearing that “mama’s” mother was originally from Maui, and “papa” grew up in town where the Dole Theaters are now located. And, of course, no family conversation is complete without the follow-up phrase, “I heard we used to have plenty land over there.” It’s funny to hear that expressed so often, but it hints at the sad fact that many Hawaiians are landless; many try to imagine a time when they weren’t watching resorts and high-rises rise up around their former house lots and farms.

But what was a little strange was how she cautioned me after handing over some birth certifcates and indexed notes. “I was once told that you shouldn’t go back too far,” she said. “You might not like what you see.” Whatever that meant (she claimed she was at an equal loss) might have something to do with the kūpuna in her younger days being so tight-lipped. Maybe I would unearth something that would upset the both of us.

My great aunt was a sagacious source for family history and guidance, portents and all, but starting off the research on grandpa’s side was different simply because there was no one to tell me anything. Grandpa didn’t know much at all about his maternal grandmother Lucy because his parents divorced when he was young, and he went to live at Mā kua with his father Sebastian Jr., who was the foreman of the ranch. As for Julia, it seems her son Sebastian, according to his marriage certificate, either didn’t know anything or chose not to reveal anything beyond her first name and her Hawaiian ethnicity.

In place of a k ū puna whom I could talk with, I paid my respects to people no longer in this world, before diving into the paper trail. I am far from an expert in protocol – Hawaiians are sensitive about the way things are done – but the cemetery was calling. My second great-grandmother Lucy’s grave was situated next to her sister Mable’s at Diamond Head Memorial. Her vase was stuck upside down in its holder by the concrete-like dirt that had accumulated in the crevices. I freed it from encum -

brance after 20 minutes of labor involving water with a hose from a nearby faucet and a screwdriver. With white roses now gracing her marker, we sat with each other in thought. When I spoke her name, I knew she felt acknowledged.

Not a few days later did I begin scouring the tripartite of state repositories that I’ve come to know better than my own home: the state archives with its endless drawers of marriage certificates, court cases and government correspondence; the Bureau of Conveyances’ rows of Commandmentsized tablets of land transactions stretching back to the advent of private property in the 1840s; the main library’s basement is a historian’s boon of micro-filmed newspapers stretching back even further. In a matter of months of going at it, I had a pile of documents in hand, but making sense of it all was another story. Cross-referencing became critical because k ū punas’ names were often spelled differently or changed completely depending on the document and the year. And before the 1900s, land deeds and court cases were mostly written in the Hawaiian language, so the less-thanfluent, like myself, must depend on the aid of dictionaries and generous friends.

It wasn’t long, though, before some semblance of the life of my third greatgrandfather, Henry P. Kauhaeahu, started to materialize. He was born in South Kona on Hawai‘i Island in 1842. His parentage remains a work in progress because of conflicting information on tax records and land conveyances from around the time of the Great Mā hele in 1848, the year Kamehameha III formally introduced private land ownership to the islands. (It’s made all the more difficult by the fact that written records become scarcer beyond this point.)

He met a young Fanny (“Pane”) Chesebro, the daughter of Kaehupulehu, a native of Waimea, and a whaler from New York named Joseph Chesebro. Henry and Fanny married in Waimea in 1882 and had five children together. As owner of a billiards room in Honolulu, Henry probably kept a pied-à-terre since he seemed to travel back and forth between the islands. But the marriage, for whatever reason, wouldn’t

last long; they divorced in 1889. He left behind his children, among them daughter Lucy, who was still growing in the womb of her mother. Fanny would raise her daughters with the help of her brother John, a cowboy at Parker Ranch. When a 19-year-old Lucy married Charles Peiper at the ranch in 1909, Fanny was already dead. The couple’s eldest child and the future mother of my grandfather, Charlotte Kuulei Peiper, would be born in 1912 after the couple moved to O‘ahu.

I would lie in bed at night piecing together more of the narrative, which would play over in my mind like a Thomas Hardy tragedy. Fanny’s father, Joseph Chesebro, would die a year after the divorce and in his will gift exactly $1 each to her and her brother. She would come to depend on other relatives for help with clothes; the ranch may have helped with housing. She never remarried and her life ended well before her 50th birthday. Daughter Lucy would scrimp and live frugally; at the time of her death in 1943, she was a janitor at the Pearl Harbor naval base. Henry’s apparent abandonment felt like a betrayal whose repercussions trickled into my own life.

But the story would change. Uncovered newspaper clippings and criminal court papers revealed that, at the time of Henry’s divorce, he had been imprisoned.

On October 8, the attorney general of the kingdom, for reasons that aren’t completely clear, dropped the charges of treason and freed my third great-grandfather Henry, along with Joseph Poepoe and a few other Hawaiian subjects, after two months in custody. They were jailed for their involvement in the failed Wilcox Rebellion of July 30, 1889. While this event is still being debated, one thing is certain: The revolt was an attempt to restore power to the monarchy. In 1887, a group of powerful businessmen and politicians – among them Sanford B. Dole and Lorrin Thurston, future key players in the annexation of 1893 – forced the king to sign what is now called The Bayonet’s Constitution, which reduced his status to that of a figurehead and effectively stripped native Hawaiians of the power to elect the legislature. Rob -

The writer’s third great-grandfather, H.P.K. Malulani, originally Henry P. Kauhaeahu, was accused of treason for his part in the Wilcox Rebellion of 1889. The charges were eventually dropped.

Top: The author’s grandpa Charles Kawehewehe Reiny in Mā kua with his best friend Ivanhoe Naiwi. Bottom: Charles Kawehewehe Reiny and May Naniloa Ana, the author’s grandparents, pose as young lovebirds.

Brandishing a rife and taking charge of munitions, he and 30 others held their positions until government forces stormed in and exacted their surrender. By late afternoon, 12 of Wilcox’s men lay injured; eight were killed.

ert William Kalanihiapo Wilcox gathered together a band of men – all donning red shirt uniforms inspired by their leader’s admiration of Italian statesman Giuseppe Garibaldi’s redshirt militia – to compel the king to sign the previous constitution into effect and rid him of his cabinet comprised of those very Bayonet plotters who inserted themselves into positions of authority.

In a sworn testimony printed in the Daily Pacific Commercial Advertiser , Henry stated he was among the first four Redshirts who scaled the walls of ‘Iolani Palace in the dim hours of the morning and instigated a standoff with the Royal Guard led by Lt. Robert Waipa Parker. Brandishing a rifle and taking charge of munitions, he and 30 others held their positions until government forces stormed in and exacted their surrender. Another 120 soldiers occupied nearby government buildings, and they resisted longer, but the hail of crude bombs and rifle fire did them in by late afternoon. Twelve of Wilcox’s men lay injured; eight were killed.

My grandfather’s divorce proceedings were the last times he would be referred to, on paper anyway, as Henry Kauhaeahu. Testifying in court for his so-called treasonous activities, he adopted a name kept until his last days: H.P.K. Malulani.

I would like to believe that the divorce, along with the invention of his new alias (which could have been the name of an ancestor), was a means of protecting his family. Henry certainly feared for his own life during his two months in prison: At least one newspaper, the influential and antimonarchial Hawaiian Gazette , editorialized that the leaders of the rebellion should be “hung, without one day’s delay.”

From what I gathered about the remainder of his life, Henry was looking for

stability. The following year, he was admitted to the bar and soon after practiced real estate law. Six years later he married a young Elizabeth Hoolapa from Kahalu‘u and fathered two more children, Edwin and Ida. He held the post of committee secretary with the longshoremen’s union in 1912. Although I have yet to locate a death certificate, circumstantial evidence suggests that my third great-grandfather passed on no later than 1913.

What this man endured, and had to sacrifice, was reason enough for me to respect him. But to know that Henry did not actually forget his youngest daughter Lucy secured my eternal aloha. By happenstance, I had been shuffling through a bunch of government land papers researching for another project when I found, in small print among a hefty list, the names of two women who bought adjoining properties in Wai‘anae’s Lualualei Valley in 1914: Elizabeth Malulani and Lucy Peiper. Stepmother and daughter became neighbors. There was aloha between them. And I then knew that a father loved his daughter. And maybe, in some mystical and beautiful way, he loved my grandfather, his great grandson whom he never met, just the same.

On a breezy, moonless night, a good friend and I stood at a roadside deep in the Lualualei Valley farmlands. The sky was lit up like a crown of diamonds. He knew the Hawaiian constellations. “There’s your Malulani,” he said as he outlined its shape with his finger – what I’ve come to know as the Pleiades and Orion along with some other bodies combined to form a giant canoe with that same name. The magical dirigible was commencing its sail over the tops of the Wai‘anae Mountains.

Grandpa passed away in Mākua six years ago. I would have liked to tell him that

during many of those countless nights he wondered at the stars from the quiet of his cot, Malulani, which means “chiefly protection,” was watching over him. He would have also known that his great grandfather had a prophetic foresight. In 1912, H.P.K. Malulani petitioned the governor to return Mākua Valley, at that time a place for cattle ranching, back to the people. ***

Mary Kawena Pukui once wrote that talking freely about one’s ancestors in public was akin to “drying their bones in the sun,” the idea that just as bones should be secreted away because they are sacred, so should our family histories be held in the same regard. In writing this, some may feel that I have broken with Hawaiian custom and protocol, even decency. While I have wrestled heavily with this, I’ve come to peace with my decision to share this story.

Early in her career, some Hawaiians criticized Pukui for writing books containing the very aphorisms and ancient lore I attribute because they felt foreigners shouldn’t be privy to that knowledge. She replied that she authored these works for the succeeding generations.

While I’ve gained many insights into the lives of my Grandma May’s kūpuna, I haven’t found grandpa’s tutu Julia yet; even her full name remains a mystery. But when that door is opened, if instead of a royal lineage all I can trace is descent from a common laborer, there will be no shame or regret. Descendants of high chiefs and grandsons of Mā kua beach residents alike can already lay equal claim to the greatest legacy: Our kūpuna survived and did all they could so that we may live. Tat is a lesson worth sharing with succeeding generations.

SAMI AKUNA , aka Cocoa Chandelier, is the artistic director for Leeward Community College Theater, helping with movement, costumes, and hair and makeup. “Basically, they bake the cake, then I put the icing on it,” he says. “I enjoy working with the students because you get to see their growth as performers.” Cocoa has also been dancing with Iona Contemporary Dance Theater since 1991 and recently reprised his role in Destiny, one of the company’s most ambitious works. Cocoa’s outfits are custom made by Arturo Moreno.

PHOTOGRAPHY BY PHOTOGRAPHY ASSISTANT STYLED BY HAIR BY MAKEUP BY LOCATION

OUT

AARON VAN BOKHOVEN

ANNA HARMON

ARA LAYLO

LANDON FIDELE

RYAN JACOBIE SALON

DULCE FELIPE

ROYAL SILVER

TIMELESS CLASSIC BEAUTY

NICHE MODELS AND TALENT

CHRIS KAHUNAHANA is the owner of Nextdoor, a nightclub and bar that ranges from cinema house to dance hall. “Hawai‘i is a real part of the global creative culture. It’s really only right ‘next door,’” says Chris. The versatile bar has featured world-renowned DJs and emcees, including Kool Herc. “I took Kool Herc surfing,” Chris recalls, “and a giant turtle came up from under us, and without missing a beat, Herc starts talking to the turtle, and the turtle looks at us and listens to his story.” Shirt, Etro, Neiman Marcus. His own jacket, jeans and shoes.

RICE CHINEN has been riding fixed-gear bikes since before it went the way of the hipster. She’s a bike messenger for Crosstown Couriers, a courier service that uses bikes instead of cars. Rice is a lot more than just a pretty face, with deliveries spanning from Kahala all the way to the airport. Tiered shirt dress, Alexander Wang, Aloha Rag.

JOSEPH K. PA‘AHANA , 29, is a visual artist and freelance designer. Though not formally trained, his client list includes Honolulu Academy of Arts, Morimoto Waikiki, Honolulu Weekly and Nextdoor. The hardest thing about freelancing, he says, is “being both employer and employee, where being mad at your boss is kind of crazy. In a way it’s empowering; emotions become ineffective, rendering them irrelevant.” Shirt, Publish, KICKS/HI. Chambray shorts, Crooks & Castles Hawai‘i. His own watch and sunglasses.

MICHELE PARK SONEN , 26, has a Juris Doctor from the William S. Richardson School of Law at UH Manoa. “I’d love to use my law degree to find innovative ways to promote social change,” says the summa-cum-laude graduate. “Law is a powerful tool that can connect and protect people who are often overlooked.” Grass-green dress, Stella McCartney, Neiman Marcus. Luis Morais Lotus necklace, Aloha Rag.

NICOLE L. MARYOTT , 26, is an instructor at Hawai‘i National Guard Youth Challenge Academy helping at-risk, high-school dropouts ages 16 to 19 to earn their GEDs. “My job punctuates my everyday with inspiring moments. They remind me that a group of mishmash teenagers from all backgrounds can work together to achieve a goal. It gives me hope that perhaps the adults in our state can do the same.” Jacket, Elizabeth and James, Neiman Marcus. Tank, Alexander Wang, Neiman Marcus. Chanel vintage purse, whatgoesaroundnyc.com. Her own jeans and boots.

MARGOT SEETO , 28, has a Master of Arts degree in education from Stanford University and is a freelance writer for various publications in the state. She says of journalism: “Who cares that you know how to save the world if only five people understand your work? Journalism builds that bridge between important work and a larger audience. That channel has the power to inspire, anger or touch us into doing or thinking something we may not have thought of before.” Dress, Marc by Marc Jacobs, Neiman Marcus. Luis Morais snake necklace, Aloha Rag.

TRAVIS WATANABE , 26, is the Red Bull on-premise manager for Hawai‘i and Guam. While managing client relationships statewide, Watanabe also serves as the “face” of Red Bull. “Being in the fold of a company like Red Bull is unbelievable. From surfing, music, art, fashion and action sports, it’s difficult to find something that the brand doesn’t have some level of influence on. I get to help people enhance their businesses and their lives through the brand.” Travis wears his own suit and shoes.

LANDON TOM , 25, is the lead singer and guitarist for local indierock band The Jump Offs. They’ve opened for national acts Menomena and MGMT and released a self-titled debut album in 2009, with another to be released “very soon,” Landon says cryptically. Slant zip jacket, Nike, Aloha Rag. Today For Tomorrow tee, Publish, KICKS/HI. His own jeans.

AMANDA GARCIA, 26, started her apprenticeship with Tattoo Krew at Island Tattoo. She originally planned on going pre-med, but found the tattoo apprenticeship six years ago and hasn’t looked back since. “Getting my face tattooed by my teacher Ryan Lau pretty much sealed the deal that I would be tattooing forever. You think anyone in the medical field would ever let someone that has their face tattooed be a doctor?” Corset, Cosabella, Neiman Marcus. Her own skirt and makeup. Hair by Cari Leong.

LUCKY OLELO is the owner of Every Ready, a tattoo shop in Chinatown. He started his apprenticeship in 1999 at New Tribal Polynesian Tattoo, before moving over to Soul Signature Tattoo, and finally opening his own shop. “Good tattoos take a long time, many hours and lots of effort,” he says. “Or as the saying goes, ‘A good tattoo is not cheap, and a cheap tattoo is not good.’” Jacket, Dolce & Gabbana, Neiman Marcus. His own hat, shirt and jeans.

COLORING OUTSIDE THE LINES:

On the eyes, start with an all-over cream color with a bit of shimmer. Try: Laura Mercier Metallic Crème Eye Colour in platinum. Use a liquid liner for more control as you extend your eye line into the crease. We used MAC Waterproof LiquidLast Liner in Blue Horizon. For a less intimidating but equally stunning blue, try Trish McEvoy: 24 Hour Eyeshadow and Linder in Aquamarine.

Philip Lim knit top and Chanel earrings, Aloha Rag.

COLORING OUTSIDE THE LINES | When it comes to the art of beauty, there is no such thing as taboo

BY

BY

MAKEUP ASSISTANT AND HAIR BY MALIA

BY

The rules of makeup tell us never mix warm and cool colors, don’t play up eyes and lips at the same time, stay clear of wearing makeup to the beach, and definitely don’t color outside the lines. When it comes to

beauty, there is only one rule you need to obey: Always be free to celebrate what makes you unique. What sets you apart makes you incredibly beautiful. And that beauty tip looks amazing on just about everyone!

PHOTOGRAPHY

BRANDON TABIOLO

MAKEUP

JESSICA HOFFMAN

AMARAL

STYLED

KYLE KAGAMIDA

MODEL SHELBY LYNN TAYLOR

PLAYING UP THE EYES AND LIPS:

On the eyes, try MAC Big Bounce Shadow in Luxury Touch and MAC Eye Shadow in Seedy Pearl. On the lips, use Giorgio Armani Beauty: Rouge D’armani #401. To make the lips appear matte, press translucent powder onto lips with a sponge and lightly blot.

Maison Martin Margiela bow jacket, Aloha Rag. Earrings, Tonya Torres for Stalla and Dot Jewelry.

MIXING METALS:

On the eyes, begin with cream color on the lid and blend into crease with Makeup Forever: Flash Color Palette using gold and silver. To highlight the inner corners, apply Artistry: Metallic Eye Shadow in Starry Night, available at makeupmemoirs.com.

sequin butterfly top, Tara’s Secret Closet. All jewelry, stylist’s own.

Vintage

FISHING FOR RUSSIAN TABOOS

TEXT AND PHOTOS BY JON LETMAN

Traditionally, the Russian dacha is a simplybuilt wooden country house surrounded by a small plot of land. I’d been to a number of dacha before, but this was something else entirely.

I was visiting friends on Sakhalin Island in the Russian Far East. My friends Vika and Oleg had arranged a visit to their friend’s dacha on the shore of Ozero Tunaycha, an enormous freshwater lake barely separated from the Sea of Okhotsk by a narrow spit of land. Their friends, who I’ll call “Katya” and “Andrey,” have an unusually luxurious dacha with a covered swimming pool, an elaborate banya (Russian sauna) and an enclosed dining pavilion with an open wood stove for outdoor barbeques.

Andrey, an ambitious entrepreneur and prominent member of the local municipal assembly, was away on a business trip to Siberia but was expected to join us at the dacha the following day. I’d heard much about Andrey’s drive, energy, and his place among Sakhalin’s movers and shakers. I was told it was unusual for a man of his age (in his early 30s) to occupy such a powerful position and to own as many businesses as he did.

Several years earlier, Andrey had crossed the wrong people and, as the story went, was the victim of a drug plant by the Federal Security Reserve, or FSB (Russia’s

main domestic security agency rising from the KGB), which landed him behind bars for a stint. Since his release, he had gotten married, had two small children and was living a life that reflected the oil wealth of the Sakhalin region.

True to his word, Andrey arrived at the dacha Sunday afternoon in his shiny black Land Cruiser. Accompanied by two associates I’ll call “Artem” and “Yuri,” Andrey stopped just long enough to drop off food and drinks and kiss his wife and children. Then he piled all us men into the car and sped off in the direction of a small boat harbor near the port town of Korsakov.

Flying down a bumpy country road, Andrey’s driving was an open window to his character: confident to the point of being brash, but decisive and skillful. Andrey, who once raced cars and motorcyles, was clearly experienced at commanding highspeed vehicles. On the way to Korsakov, we stopped only to buy a bag of fresh shrimp and strips of dried korushka (smelt) from some roadside babushkas .

The distance from the lake to the sea was short, and we reached the boat landing quickly. “The Korsakov Yacht Club,” Oleg replied with a grin. The landing itself, several kilometers from Sakhalin’s southernmost port town, was a gathering of large,

rusted-out fishing boats, half-submerged at various impossible angles.

There were, of course, several seaworthy vessels, including Andrey’s. We hopped aboard a beautiful blue-and-white twin engine Bayliner and, in typical Andrey fashion, sped away from the landing.

We raced across the water on what had warmed up to be a pleasant afternoon on Sakhalin’s Aniva Bay. From the bottom tip of the island, Japan’s northernmost point, Soya Misaki, at the top of Hokkaido, is faintly visible on clear days.

The seas around Sakhalin and the nearby southern Kuril Islands (what the Japanese call the Northern Territories and still insist is occupied Japan) have some of the richest fishing stocks in the North Pacific. Since at least 1806, the two neighbors have struggled for possession of this remarkably bountiful region with remnants of the most recent Japanese era (1905-45) still visible. As of yet, Russia and Japan have never signed a formal peace treaty after the war. Before long, we found a good fishing spot. Andrey cut the engine, produced rods, reels, bait and Sakhalin fishing snacks (beer, vodka, pickled cucumbers, bread and Korean blood sausage). No sooner had we dropped our lines than we were pulling up kambala (flounder) like they couldn’t

The bumpy, country road on the way to Korsakov, a small port town on Sakhalin Island. Opposite page: “The Korsakov Yacht Club.”

wait to get into our bucket.

After catching our share of fish and making a significant dent in a bottle of top-shelf Beluga vodka, we sat around a small table to chew korushka strips and roe, drink beer and bask in the fraternal glow men generate when they’re away from their wives and children.

Seizing the opportunity, I explained that I was looking for taboo subjects in Russia to write about and asked if my company had any suggestions. All four men stopped eating and turned somber. Words were exchanged, the topic debated, then Oleg interpreted.

“They want to know what you mean by ‘taboo.’ Are we talking from a legal standpoint? A moral standpoint? Is this an ethical or philosophical question? Do you mean taboo for individuals or all society?”

Anything was fair game, I answered. I just wanted to know what they thought was taboo on Sakhalin. Gambling, drugs, crime, illicit sexual behavior were all mentioned, but in the end the subject fizzled when the beer ran out and Andrey returned to the pilot’s seat to speed us back to shore.

Back on land, we loaded up the fish

and vodka, and were again speeding past ramshackle country houses. The fishing, comradeship and, I suppose, the vodka had softened Andrey’s cool exterior, allowing him to unwind after his trip to Siberia.

Tearing across the hinterlands of the Russian Far East, blazing past the few other cars on the road in a way I’d only seen in movies, Oleg called out from behind, “Are you OK with the speed?” I could only laugh.

It was ridiculous to travel at 200 kilometers per hour on this road. Driving at this speed regularly, I thought, could only lead into the hands of the police, an ambulance driver or a mortician. Frank Sinatra’s “That Old Black Magic” played at top volume from the stereo as someone from the backseat called out, “Driving like this is taboo!” Outside, the birch and pine were a blur as we blazed across the Russian countryside, Andrey gripping the steering wheel with a calm intensity and determination not to let the evening die young.

To learn more about Sakhalin Island, see Jon Letman’s feature “Pacifica Incognito” at FLUXhawaii.com.

Stopping for fishing snacks on the way to Korsakov, Sakhalin Island.

Reyn Spooner X Opening Ceremony

Along with a new build-out transforming their Waikiki location into a modern retail door, Reyn Spooner has coupled with Opening Ceremony to create specially curated collections. Their collection of aloha shirts with Opening Ceremony features vintage-looking florals on brilliant, boldly colored shirts with a decidedly more slim, tailored cut in the body in an array of fabrics. These forays beyond the shores of Hawai‘i are the right, well-conceptualized and executed steps that will help keep them relevant for decades to come.

Island Slipper’s “Protea”

Island Slipper has been handcrafting slippers made of the finest high-end leathers and other textiles for more than 60 years. Their “PT” model, which stands for “Protea,” is the most popular silhouette that they have to offer. With a penchant for heritage brands, Japanese labels Hysteric Glamour, Sophnet, Neighborhood and Nonnative have reached out to Island Slipper to create their own versions of the PT slipper.

SELECTS

BY CHRIS KAM & BLAISE SATO

Puttin’ in Work

In Hawai‘i, the aloha shirt and slippers are as commonplace as spam musubi and shakas. Outside of the islands, the “Hawaiian shirt” and “flip flops” are more synonymous with popculture references to Magnum P.I., casual Fridays at the office, and thongs you wear in the shower at hotels. The aloha shirt and its footwear counterpart have a rich, well-documented history as a staple and signature of Hawai‘i’s own island wardrobe. As such, there is a wide range of quality in the pieces that are available for purchase, from rayon shirts with garishly loud sunsets and palm trees to higher-end, Hawaiian heritage labels such as Tori Richard, Sig Zane

and Reyn Spooner. Slippers too: from generic, rubber slippers found at the supermarket ($6.99 near the light bulbs) to made-in-Hawai‘i brands like Scott and Island Slipper, who integrate high-grade rubber and leather with cloth or leather straps. With the rise of “streetwear” over the last 20 years, traditional, maybe even conservative, labels are collaborating with urban brands like Stussy, Supreme, Converse and Vans to tap the 20s and 30s demographic. These types of projects have helped slippers and aloha shirts to be received as “fashion” in the continental US and internationally, and not just novelty items.

KICKS/HI x Parra x Stussy

In street fashion, 10 years is almost a lifetime. Opening its doors the day after the 9-11 tragedy, it could have very well been grand opening, grand closing. But as a testament to the shop’s owners and their vision, KICKS/HI is celebrating its 10-year anniversary this year. To commemorate such a milestone, Stussy reached out to KICKS/HI for a time-capsule project, bringing in Amersterdam-based artist Parra to create an anniversary T-shirt, cap and postcard.

WARPAINT

Q&A with Jenny Lee Lindberg

“FIRST THEY HYPNOTIZE; THEN THEY GET YOU DANCING.” – New York

Times

Lauded as one of the year’s most promising acts by Rolling Stone, Warpaint kicks of the Hallowballo Music & Arts Festival October 28 at Te Waterfront at Aloha Tower with openers Clones of the Queen. We got the skinny on Warpaint from bass player Jenny Lee Lindberg.

Warpaint has been together since 2004. Why did you wait so long to release your first EP, Exquisite Corpse in 2007?

We are super keen on taking our time, never wanting to rush through any of the process, and we always wanted the experi -

ence to feel organic, making sure fluidity is always present.

What advice can you give local bands about the importance of touring?

Touring has been such a big part of where we are today. Playing shows every night is bound to make the band super tight, and the songs become much more interesting –they start to take a life of their own.

Speaking of touring, are you guys exhausted or what?! Menomena was here a few months ago and they called you one of the most hardworking touring bands!

Ya know what? We are tired, but life on the road has become such a huge part of our day-to-day that I feel more natural out there than I do at home. We have border -

line mastered what works for us on tour.

What are you looking forward to when you come to Hawai‘i?

I haven’t been to Hawai‘i since I was 14, but that’s where my family is from – on my mother’s side that is. We are going to where my sister was born, and where my mother was raised. I’m excited to get back to my roots!

Hallowbaloo Kick-Off Concert, Friday, October 28 at The Waterfront at Aloha Tower Marketplace. Doors open at 8:30pm - All ages; under 18 must be accompanied by an adult. $25 advance / $30 door / $40 VIP. Featuring: Warpaint, Paper Diamond and Clones of the Queen. Tickets available at: hallowbaloo2011.eventbrite.com.

REQUIRED READING: LUCKY PEACH

We still believe in the power of print. New York-based Chef David Chang (Momofuku, Má Pêche) has partnered with McSweeney’s on this new publication. It has provocative food writing, a great design aesthetic, and well-researched recipes. Best thing about it you can find Lucky Peach ($10) at R&D, our new creative space/bookstore/coffee bar in Kaka‘ako.

Get Lucky Peach at R&D, located at 691 Auahi St.

ECO-HOME

We recently picked up a set of cloth napkins from Amerjit Ghag, world-traveling owner of Chai Honolulu. They are beautifully handprinted in India and come in a wide selection of color choices. No more bulky Costco napkin purchases! Use them and just throw them in the wash – they’ll be ready for the next dinner party, or solo pizza-night.

A set of six cloth napkins retails for $24. Chai Honolulu is located at 675 Auahi St.

FASHION

SUPPORTS

ART WITH FENDI

We love the fall – it’s back-to-school time, fall fashion, and a new arts and culture season. On August 12 and 14, Fendi debuts a dynamic project with two Honolulu art ists. Maintaining the Ro man leather goods house’s value of craftsmanship, Fatto a Mano for the Future (Hand made for the Future) features works by artists Eli Baxter and Aaron Padilla, who use Fendi Selleria leather to create artworks for Fendi’s Ala Moana and Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center stores. Visitors can schedule an appointment to customize and purchase their own Fendi Selleria handbag – 20 percent of the proceeds will benefit to University of Hawai‘i art department.

SMOOTH OPERATOR

For skincare, we are huge fans of oil. To all skin types: Don’t be afraid of oil! Our favorite products include Dr. Hauschka Normalizing Day Oil and John Masters Organics 100% Argan Oil. But, our most-loved, all-time go-to oil product is Shu Uemura’s line of cleansing oils. Their newest cleansing oil ($65) is a lightweight version that cleanses, hides pores and smoothes the skin. It’s amazing how oil doesn’t make the face oily, just moisturized at the right level.

Visit shuuemura-usa.com for more information on products like these.

PAU HANA HOT!

Hands down, the best pau hana combo in town is Home Bar & Grill’s fried rice with “Da Ring Stinger” hot sauce. Owner Chris Tai always has our go-to drinks ready as soon as we walk into Home. The fried rice is on standing order, though Tater Tot nachos are a close second. Both go so well with the hot sauce. Working hard all day does have a reward.

Home Bar & Grill is located at 1683 Kalakāua Ave. For more information on Da Ring Stinger, visit bdfsauces.com.

NALU KAI LODGE, MAUI

HOME AWAY FROM HOME

The Nalu Kai Lodge offers the best in Maui North Shore vacation rentals. Centrally located in Paia Town, Nalu Kai is within walking distance of a variety of restaurants, unique shopping experiences and sun-drenched beaches. Under new ownership and recently remodeled, it has served as the affordable vacation destination of thousands of visitors to the North Shore of Maui since the 1960s. The Lodge boasts a courtyard surrounded by bamboo, which includes a Tiki bar and barbeque facilities, a second-floor

sun deck with views of the ocean, a waterfall and pond with adjacent outdoor shower, and free Wi-Fi. Each of the eight available rooms is bright and cheerful and includes a private bathroom, mini-fridge, closet, CD player and ceiling fan. Simple, affordable and spotless, Nalu Kai will be your home away from home in the heart of Paia.

Nalu Kai Lodge 18 Nalu Place Paia, HI 96779 808.385.4344 www.nalukailodge.com

Something’s diferent on Bethel Street Saturday nights. Te lights are low, candles are fickering, and DJs are spinning real vinyl, reminiscent of the very chill sounds found at the Buddha Bar, Hotel Costes and Café del Mar. Du Vin has created a tempting late night menu, with specially-priced, handcrafted cocktails and small, tapas-style plates. Trays of chilled oyster shooters

and miniature sweet treats travel from table to table. Whether it’s date night or time to wind down before heading home, Noir is a nice alternative to the loud, bustling nightclub scene. Open-air patio and diningroom seating available.

Noir – Late night lounge at Brasserie Du Vin Saturdays, 10pm to 1am 1115 Bethel Street brasserieduvin.com

LATE-NIGHT LOUNGE AT BRASSERIE DU VIN

PROMETHEUS BROWN AND BAMBU WALK INTO A BAR

The newest release from hip-hop artists San Francisco-based Bambu and Seattlebased Geologic (of Blue Scholars), Prometheus Brown and Bambu Walk Into a Bar is as much an anthem about respect as it is about “brown power.”

Both Visayan and Ilocano will find respite in the proud representation of Filipino culture, and Bambu and Geo make sure to pay much respect to their pinoy backgrounds. But not before paying homage to their host city of Honolulu, where a majority of the album was recorded, giving props to the people who have supported them over the years on “Mahalo.”

While Bambu and Geo are not from Hawai‘i (and acknowledge that fact), they are keenly aware of the struggles locals face, from the abundant population of an apathetic youth to, conversely, youth empowerment (“thousands on my Twitter, can’t get 10 to a rally”), to a topic as deep as the displaced Hawaiian (Pan handle handout / homeless man, hang out, living on the beach / looking back at a million dollar high house. / Wondering how he called a native / to an island but got no home / Honolulu haoles out here buying in”). It’s an album that will simultaneously cause locals to swell with pride and feel checked into action. Tere’s no joking around about that.

Available on iTunes and at In4mation stores across O‘ahu.

SPEAKING IN SILENCE

ERNESTO PUJOL

ON DISPLAY AT THE CONTEMPORARY MUSEUM THROUGH OCTOBER 3

From sunrise to sunset, they walked. Figures in red, scattered across Honolulu. Amidst the human rush, the whir of buses, the giggling of tourists, they marked each soundless step with purpose. This was living art, a walking commentary conceived by performance artist Ernesto Pujol. Dignified, defiant, his red beacons navigated a storm of concrete and chaos. Embracing the places – the Mission Houses, the Capitol, ‘Iolani Palace – they performed an exorcism, a cleansing of the evils of history. For many moments, I was stolen away from a world moving too fast, coaxed to listen as they spoke in silence… And what I heard was beautiful.

– Kimiko Matsuda-Lawrence

Speaking in Silence, a public group performance created by site-specific artist and social choreographer Ernesto Pujol, took place on May 18 from sunrise to sunset. Pujol’s performance practice is about pilgrimage, the sacredness of people and places, and presence. The performance was in conjunction with The Contemporary Museum’s exhibition Walking Ground on view through October 3.

Performance Photography Group, The Contemporary Museum.

Performance piece at The Honolulu Academy and National Cemetery of the Pacific, Punchbowl.

OPEN MARKET

SHE’S FOUND

HER NICHE

NICHE MODELS AND TALENT

Niche serves the needs of industry while nurturing and developing Hawai‘i’s talent

Niche Models and Talent has seen exponential growth in the two years since its establishment. Niche was founded in 2009 by president and CEO Shawna Erickson when she brought to reality a dream of using her experience in the fashion and entertainment industries to expand industry opportunities on the islands and to beneft the many gifted models and actors in Hawai‘i. “Tere is such an incredible wealth of talent on the islands. Showcasing and nurturing that talent benefts the

industries that come to Hawai‘i while expanding employment opportunities here. Really a winwin situation for everyone.”

Niche was created as a boutique-style agency with an emphasis on quality. Niche models and actors have appeared in print and television media locally and globally. Serving a diverse client base with current working projects in Hawai‘i, Japan, China, New York, Miami and Los Angeles, Niche has paired models and actors with clients as diverse as Izod, Neiman-Marcus, Pizza Hut, Athleta, Sears, Disney, and TV shows Hawaii Five-0 and Cougar Town .

For more information visit nichemodelsandtalent.com. For inquiries contact info@nichemodelsandtalent.com.

OPEN MARKET

DECONSTRUCTING Collins & 8th

Styled by Maida Montemayor and Samantha Carlyon. Model Mei Huang, Terra Salon

LUCCA COUTURE L/S JACKET, $98

Fresh fashion at its finest, Lucca Couture bridges the gap between highend fashion and everyday street style and is currently featured in Kitson LA, Planet Blue, South Moon Under and Urban Outfitters.

SONYA MONIQUE DESIGNS

CAMEL “GRANDMAMA” LEATHER

DETACHABLE EARRINGS, $108

Made from hand-cut leather from used leather jackets, sterling silver and by-products of horn. Earrings can be converted from long to short. These earrings are limited to 10 worldwide.

JEFFREY CAMPBELL MARIEL, $128

Slingback wedge sandal featuring cut-out straps. 5” covered heel with a 2”covered platform. Buckle ankle strap closure. Suede upper lining.

Collins & 8th is a new upscale men’s and women’s boutique inspired by Miami’s vibrancy and culture. Dedicated to bringing fresh new fashion finds to Hawai‘i, Collins & 8th designer offerings include Mara Hoffman, Joie, Lucca, Hy + Dot and Jeffrey Campbell as well as Hawai‘i based jewelry and accessory lines. Fusing fashion with lifestyle, Collins & 8th brings Miami to Hawai‘i with love.

560 Pensacola Street, Suites 4 & 5 collinsand8th.com 808-271-0959

MARA HOFFMAN TIE SIDE DRESS IN SILK CHARMEUSE, $442

Mara Hoffman is a New York fashion designer whose line features hand-dyed couture pieces and original silk prints.

EVENING INVITATION RABBIT FUR HANDBAG BY FARIDA ONG

100 percent rabbit fur. Pearl chain from Japan, vintage.

Chris Garnier has been with Roy’s since 1991. He worked his way up from busboy to executive chef at Roy’s original Hawai‘i Kai location.

IN THE KITCHEN WITH...

Chris Garnier, Roy’s Hawai‘i Kai

TEXT BY MARNIE YAMAMOTO | PHOTOS BY AARON YOSHINO

When I was first told by my editor that I would be interviewing Chris Garnier, the executive chef of Roy’s Hawai‘i Kai, I admit it, I rolled my eyes. How many times has a Roy’s restaurant been written about? Why were we still talking about this culinary institution, which has been around since I was eating animal crackers and drinking Hawaiian Sun Passion Orange at snack time? What has not been said about Pacific-rim fusion cuisine?

Now I’m sitting in front of plates of food at Roy’s Hawai‘i Kai’s Patio Pa‘ina, a happy hour that features old classics and new in -

novations paired with specialty cocktails and wines – most of which are $6 – eating my words. The Szechuan-spiced baby back ribs, an all-time favorite of many, are gooey and tangy, the charred edges providing a nice texture against the succulent barbequed pork. Four large, skewered shrimp come next, seared just long enough to turn a delicate pink, followed by Manila clams simmered in a shoyu butter sauce and served with shimeji mushrooms, Kahuku sea asparagus and fresh-picked ogo.

But what’s even more amazing to me

than the food I’m currently shoveling into my mouth is how Roy’s manages to stay relevant and delicious to a fickle eater whose tastes are continually changing.

The menu at Roy’s in Hawai‘i Kai is as much determined by executive chef Chris Garnier as it is by local purveyors, including the fishermen trolling the blue waters just outside. On any given night, patrons coming for namesake Roy Yamaguchi’s “originals,” like the macadamia nut-crusted mahi mahi or the Hawaiian-style blackend ahi, might be swayed by local offerings

that were still swimming only hours before.

Today, Garnier is waiting on a local catch of ‘opelu, which he’ll serve just the way locals like it: pan-fried to a delicate crisp, moist on the inside, and with two chopsticks for sharing. Garnier says ‘opelu, once a highly-prized fish put under kapu by the ali‘i chiefs of old Hawai‘i but now mainly used as bait, is plentiful even right along the shore of Maunalua Bay.

But you won’t find the tasty appetizer on menus at other Roy’s locations. While Yamaguchi’s originals are served at all 31 locations around the world, “the rest is up to us,” says Garnier. “That’s the biggest thing that Roy stressed to all his chefs, for each chef to create unique dishes of their own where they are.” So Hawai‘i Kai may be serving a slow-braised beef short rib, while Waik ī k ī serves a grilled swordfish – it’s completely up to the individual executive chefs to decide.

Garnier has been with Roy’s since 1991. He started off as a busboy at the original Hawai‘i Kai location and eventually worked his way up to become corporate sous chef, where he helped opened restaurants in Guam, Pebble Beach in California and Seattle. While Garnier received an associate degree in Kapi‘olani Community College’s culinary education program, he credits what he calls an education by way of blood, sweat and tears training in the kitchens of Roy’s for teaching him to be a chef. Last year, when the executive chef position opened up in Hawai‘i Kai, Yamaguchi promoted from within, as he is known to do, naming Garnier to the position.

“In 1997, I left Roy’s to work at the Kahala Mandarin [when it was called that at the time],” says 39-year-old Garnier, “but it was only for a couple months because it really is all about the ‘ohana here. And I really missed that about Roy’s.”

Like a perfectly sous vide leg of lamb, cooked at low temperature for a long period of time, Roy’s is a culinary institution that has staying power, utilizing the talents of its younger chefs to create consistently beautiful food that is imbued with the aloha spirit that always reminds locals and visitors alike of Hawai‘i.

“It’s been a long journey,” says Garnier. “I started here at Roy’s, left for 13 years, and thought I was going to call California my home. Then Roy brought me back here and as soon as I got off the plane, I was like, yeah, this is home.”

PAN-FRIED ‘OPELU

Dust ‘opelu whole in a 1 to 1/4 ration of Mochiko flour and cornstarch. Season flour mixture with salt and pepper. Pan-fry for about 3 to 4 minutes on each side, or until golden brown. While fish is frying, in a separate pan, make some drawn butter with a bit of minced garlic. Remove fish from pan and place on paper towel. Sprinkle with salt and squeeze a little lemon over. Drizzle butter-garlic mixture over the fish. Can be served medium rare.

Ponzu dipping sauce

2 parts shoyu

1 part bonito stock

1/2 part yuzu juice

1/2 part juice from any citrus fruit (lemon, lime or orange)

Place jalepeño slice in sauce if desired

6 RANDOM QUESTIONS

Man Man at Hallowbaloo Music & Arts Festival

INTERVIEW BY LISA YAMADA | PHOTO COURTESY ANTI & EPITAPH RECORDS

If you’ve got a set of kitchenware, a broken stool, a rusty old dumpster – anything to beat on really – Man Man will take it. Described as maniac gypsy jazz, the experimental vaudeville band from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania will take the stage this October for the Hallowbaloo Music & Arts Festival, Chinatown’s annual block party celebrating Halloween. Seems appropriate for a band that plays under pseudonyms and mustaches. FLUX talked with frontman Honus Honus aka Ryan Kattner about pseudonym strategy, “chicks,” and their upcoming trip to Honolulu.

You go by Honus Honus. Your bandmates are Pow Pow, Chang Wang, Turkey Mother and Jefferson – what’s your advice for picking a good pseudonym?

It’s gotta be memorable. It doesn’t have to be totally serious, but I guess it has to be rooted in something relating to you. For mine, I just thought of one of the dumbest names possible.

What’s an instrument/noisemaker you’d like to play that you haven’t yet?

I’d like to learn how to play a musical saw. You use it a lot in Appalachian music, or you ever see the move Delicatessen? There’s a great singing-saw duet. It’s also multi-purpose, because if a tree ever falls on anyone and we need to cut off a leg, it’s easier to get a leg off with a saw than, you know, a spoon.

Three words to describe the sound of your new album, Life Fantastic : Beautiful, chaotic, cathartic.

What are you most excited for when you come to Hawai‘i?

Fruit. And also the chicks. But we’re so excited to come down there. We’ve been trying to play Hawai‘i for years, and not just because it’s Hawai‘i, but just because, well, it’s Hawai‘i. So everyone is buying their swimsuits. I gotta start doing sit-ups.

You’ve had an opportunity to tour with Modest Mouse in 2007. What would be your advice to bands in Hawai‘i?

A lot of bands won’t bring us out just be -

Ryan Kattner, aka Honus Honus, far left, with Man Man band members Pow Pow, Chang Wang, Turkey Mother and Jeferson. Tey take the Loloweeny stage at the Hallowbaloo Music & Arts Festival in October.

cause we’re different and have a lot of gear, but Modest Mouse was open to it and the stars just aligned. It just seems impossible in Hawai‘i because you live on an island, but I feel with a place like Hawai‘i you can just do your own thing and if people gravitate toward you, they do, and if they don’t, then fuck ’em.

Who is someone that you have mustache envy of? Frida Kahlo. She rocks a great ’stache. Oh, and amazing eyebrows.

See Man Man at the Hallowbaloo Music & Arts Festival, October 29 on the Loloweeny Stage, located on Nu‘uanu Avenue near Chaplain Lane. They are joined by 35+ bands, DJs and theatrical dance groups. 5pm-10pm street festival, all ages and FREE. 10pm-2am 8 clubs, one wristband, 21 and older only, $10 advance / $15 door after 7:30pm. For more information and to see the full lineup, visit hallowbaloo.com. Tickets available at: hallowbaloo2011.eventbrite.com.