Though weâre fortunate here in Hawaiâi to enjoy balmy weather year round, something changes when the seasons shift from winter to spring. The Makahiki rains that sweep the islands each year draw forth new growth and nourish seeds of change that reveal themselves when exuberant spring ripens into the fertile bounty of summer.
In the spirit of the season, we invite you to venture into the lush foliage that blankets 97 percent of Hawaiâiâs oldest island, discover a fashion editorial set in a blooming Maunawili neighborhood, visit a flower market in Bangkok, and glimpse one of the biodynamic vineyards championed at Kakaâakoâs natural wine shop and cigar lounge, Brix and Stones.
This issue, we also recognize the forces that propel us, sometimes across vast distances, into uncharted territory. Follow the Hawaiâi Surf Teamâs gold-medal victory in El Salvador, a daughterâs bittersweet expedition to Thailand, and a general store ownerâs foray into building community in east Oâahu.
In the pages that follow, there are those whose passions take them beyond the islands to new depths, like the Hilo-based consortium of MEGA Lab scientists, surfers, skaters, and artists who are 3D mapping coral reefs across the Pacific, and others drawn to Hawaiâi from afar, like artist Allison Leialoha Milham and architect Craig Steely.
As you embark on your own journeys of exploration and self-discovery this year, we hope these stories fill you with a zest for new beginnings and ground you in a sense of home.
On opening a square black box adorned with an image of a dark mountain and sky full of stars, a melody begins to play. A womanâs singing voice rises from a sound piece hidden within, its soulful lyrics speaking of âhe pilina wehena âole,â or an unbreakable bond. The song was composed by artist Allison Leialoha Milham during a month-long residency at Hawaiâi Volcanoes National Park in 2018. Mourning the loss of her mother, Native Hawaiian journalist and activist Mary Alice Kaâiulani Milham, the artist found solace amid the volcanic landscape of the island of Hawaiâi. âShe was a
Allison Leialoha Milhamâs work, which spans book arts, printmaking, and songwriting, is held in various private and public collections, including the Library of Congress, Yale Universityâs Haas Library, and the Metropolitan Museum of Artâs Thomas J. Watson Library.
huge part of my life,â Milham says. âThe music speaks to my early experience of grieving, and this sense of knowing our relationship is ongoing.â
Born and raised in California and now residing in Oregon, Milham maintained a connection to Hawaiâi largely through her mother, who was a vocal advocate for Hawaiian sovereignty and the fight to protect Mauna Kea. With her passing, Milham desired to forge her own unique connection, or pilina, with the land that bonds her not only to her mother but also to a long line of Hawaiian ancestors who provide inspiration.
Out of this reflective healing sprung Pilina Everlasting, the enigmatic black box with its evocative tune and serene illustration of Mauna Kea on the cover. Completed in 2022, the work has been collected by several institutions, including the University of California, Berkeley, Bainbridge Island Museum of Art in Washington, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Combining graphic design, printmaking, bookbinding, and music composition, the project is a cache of treasures: letterpress prints of text and images on handmade paper, a fine press booklet featuring âMauna Kea Calling,â an essay by Milhamâs mother, a sculptural artistsâ book with dense illustrations of shifting landscapes, and a 7-inch lathe-cut record of
An excerpt from âMauna Kea Calling,â an essay by Mary Alice Kaâiulani Milham, a Native Hawaiian who was active in the movement to protect Mauna Kea, as seen in Pilina Everlasting (2022).
A detail from Pilina Everlasting , a multimedia work designed, hand printed, bound, and published by musician and book artist Allison Leialoha Milham.
the song Milham wrote during her cathartic residency on Hawaiâi Island. âThe end of the song has part of the oli (chant) âNÄ âAumÄkua,â which was my momâs favorite oli, and one she started teaching me,â she says.
Music plays a key role in much of Milhamâs life and work. After graduating from the University of Alabama with a masterâs in fine arts in 2012, the singer, songwriter, and musician taught printmaking and book arts across the country while recording music and creating visual art. That same year, she released Uluhaimalama: Legacies of Liliâuokalani , a multimedia box set exploring Hawaiian history through Queen Liliâuokalaniâs music and legacy. Like Pilina Everlasting , the work is a trove of poignant objects and ephemera: postcards, a booklet, a stencil of the Queen, and a record of Milham performing Liliâuokalaniâs songs.
All of the items in the box speak to the Queenâs graceful leadership and resistance to U.S. domination, a legacy that continues to inspire activism in Milham and other Hawaiians today. âThere are things that a lot of people who go to Hawaiâi for vacation, or even those who live there as settlers, still donât have a handle onâthe fact that there was never a treaty of annexation, that Hawaiians never relinquished their sovereignty, and all of the impacts of U.S. colonialism and militarism in Hawaiâi,â she says.
Future projects include collaborating with Hawaiâi State Poet Laureate Brandy NÄlani McDougall on the poetâs forthcoming book, âÄina Hanau, Birth Land, and a large-scale project centered around the history of print in Hawaiâi. âI learned early on in my education and in letterpress printing and book arts that Hawaiâi had printing presses before the West Coast of the continent, and crazy-high literacy rates,â she says. âIâm really interested in diving more into that.â
Devoted to championing Hawaiian independence and Indigenous rights in her work, Milham is continually inspired by the fierce Native Hawaiian advocates who came before her. Her grandmother, the late Dallas Kealiâihoâoneaina Mossman Vogeler, was a theater director and activist who directed a five-day, real-time reenactment of the overthrow of the Hawaiian monarchy
Installation view of Famous Are The Flowers (2015), Milhamâs solo show at the University of Missouri. Each paper flower represents a name signed to the KÅ«âÄ Petitions, which protested the annexation of Hawaiâi by the United States.
as part of the Onipaâa Centennial Observance at âIolani Palace in 1993. âSheâand my mom, too, being a writerâboth modeled how to use your art and your passion to help support what you believe in,â Milham says. âIâve tried to figure out how to use my gifts and skills as an artist to support these things that I care deeply about from afar.â
Agroup of female dancers sit in an intimate circle under a pavilion on the lush windward side of Oâahu, wooden spoons and metal pots and mixing bowls in hand. As music rises from a set of speakers nearby, the spoons and metal vessels become instruments, adding percussion to the soundtrack as the dancers clang them in time with the beat. The performance is the opening piece for Edible Tales, a multimedia dance installation whose subject matterâcultural heritage, social justice, sustainabilityâis more akin to that of an activist group than a performance company.
Unlike conventional dance troupes that perform for entertainment, competition, or sport, Dancers Unlimited sees dance as an invitation to explore oneâs humanity.
For many dance troupes, the primary objective is entertainment or competition, and all efforts are in service to the final performance. âFor us, itâs the other way around,â says Keala Fung, a classically trained dancer who joined the nonprofit Dancers Unlimited as a performer and choreographer in 2010. âAt DU, the process is more important than the final product.â
At the Edible Tales event, which was held at KualoaHeâeia Ecumenical Youth (KEY) Project in KÄneâohe in fall 2022, audience members werenât just passive viewers, they were co-creators: Attendees translated the taste of local honey and noni juice into interpretive movement, twisted newspaper scraps to prepare an imu, decorated plates to hang on the branches of a noni tree, and created music with bamboo sticks, accompanied on the ipu by Hawaiian master instrument maker and kumu hula âUncleâ Calvin Hoe.
Throughout its 14-year history, Dancers Unlimitedâs guiding principle has been what executive and coartistic director Linda Kuo describes as a âcall and responseâ with the community. When she started Dancers Unlimited in 2009, it was intended as a youth program to fill the void left by Furlough Fridays, a cost-cutting initiative by the state that removed 17 teaching days from the 2009 to 2010 school year at Hawaiâiâs public schools. Thanks to local community centers, studios, and dancers who donated their space, time, and talent, Dancers Unlimited was able to offer free dance classes to students left without schooling every other Friday.
When Furlough Fridays came to an end in 2011, Dancers Unlimited had established a core group of members, many of whom had returned home to Hawaiâi after dancing professionally on the U.S. mainland. The organization turned to fundraising to pay its dancers and cover operating expenses, and within ten months
of hosting its first free youth class, Dancers Unlimited was performing at Expo 2010, a major worldâs fair in Shanghai, China.
Now based in both Honolulu and New York City, Dancers Unlimited has retained its grassroots feel, focusing on effecting change through individual action and self-discovery. In 2017, in response to anti-immigrant rhetoric surrounding the MexicoâU.S. border crisis, the company launched an ongoing project designed to foster dialogues around immigrationâinviting immigrant choreographers and dancers to share their stories, hosting collaborative choreography sessions, and staging dance installations in response to dancersâ learnings, personal reflection, and research. In 2019, in light of renewed public protest against construction of the Thirty Meter Telescope on Mauna Kea, Dancers Unlimited turned its attention to Indigenous rights and traveled to Hawaiâi Island to join the front lines of the KÅ« Kiaâi Mauna (Guardians of the Mountain) movement.
Since being granted 501(c)(3) status in 2020, Dancers Unlimited has been working to bring social justice issues to the forefront of its programming, especially in Hawaiâi, where more than half of the organizationâs funding comes directly from community members. âIn recent years, our relationship and the way we engage with the community here in Hawaiâi has become the model for how we function in New York,â Kuo says.
In New York City, Dancers Unlimitedâs programming is supported in part by New York State through regional arts councils and state-funded residency programs. In Hawaiâi, the company relies heavily on individual donationsâsome as little as $5, Kuo saysâto sustain its work. Fortunately, Dancers Unlimitedâs deep roots in the island community have allowed the company to thrive. In 2022, Dancers Unlimitedâs annual fundraising campaign brought in more than $23,000, a shining reflection of the trust and relationships it has steadily built among its supporters in Hawaiâi.
âLinda has curated the space to hold people to come as their full selves,â says Nicole Maileen Woo, a company member and longtime ally of the organization who choreographed the opening number for the Edible Tales performance at KEY Project. âDancers Unlimited is very much rooted in autonomy and sovereignty of the [individual]. Thatâs why, even though people come and go, the mission keeps growing and remains just as strongâbecause that doesnât change.â
ë¡ ISA ìžê³ 죌ëìŽ ìí ì ìê¶ ëíìì ì°
ì¹ìŒë¡ ìŽëììµëë€.
On a spring morning in 2022, a plane touches down in El Salvador, blues and greens streaking past the window as it flies down the runway. When it slows to a stop, 12 teens step down the airstair, talking animatedly. It was a long journey from their hometowns in Hawaiâiâand, for many, it is their first trip abroad. The groupâs excitement is palpable. This is the Hawaiâi Surf Team, and their sights are set on the largest youth surfing competition in the world: the International Surfing Association (ISA) World Junior Surfing Championship. The Hawaiâi Surf Team (HST) was established to prepare junior surfers to compete in the Olympic-style event, which
dates back to 1980. With more than 400 contestants and over 30 nations represented each year, itâs the most high-profile competition in junior surfing. Many of its young contenders will go on to compete on the World Surf League (WSL) Championship Tourâthe top tier of professional surfing.
For young Hawaiâi surfers, the HST is a golden opportunity to represent Hawaiâi and test their skills against their global peers. For many former members, it also provided a pathway to successful careers in the surf industry. Notable HST alumni include greats such as five-time world champion and Olympic gold medalist Carissa Moore; Kalani Robb, whose style has influenced generations of surfers; and former menâs Championship Tour surfer and big-wave rider Shane Dorian, who now serves as team coach.
Competing as part of the HST is also a source of pride. The ISA, like the WSL, recognizes Hawaiâi as its own sovereign surfing nation, and so the HST competes separately from the U.S. Surf Team. âAs a Hawaiian, knowing that Hawaiâi is the birthplace of surfing, it means a lot to be able to go out there and represent our home,â says 2022 team captain Kai Martin.
With only 12 spots open each yearâsix boys and six girls, all ages 18 and underâteam selection can be tough. According to team manager and HST 1998 alumnus Jason Shibata, the kids who usually make the team are the best talents coming out of their age group. But, Shibata says, personality matters too: Sportsmanship and being a team player are important qualities that coaches look for.
This year, assembling the team was even more challenging than usual. The games had been on hold for two years due to the pandemic, and the HST had fallen into disarray during the hiatus. When El Salvador was announced as the location for the 2022 games, Dorian and Chris Martin stepped up as coaches. With no time for tryouts, they instead relied on their inside knowledge of the islandsâ youth surf scene to build a roster.
Once the team was built, the synchronicity was instantaneous. âEveryone was surfing well, and we were being strategic,â says North Shore local and first-time team member Luke Swanson. âWe talked about what it would be like to travel, and it felt like everyone was listening and committed. It felt really cool to have everyone in sync.â
Upon arrival in El Salvador, the young surfers took time to familiarize themselves with the waves. No stranger to travel and competition, Dorian encouraged the team to hydrate, acclimate, and find their rhythm. With nine days
Team are chosen not only for their prowess on the water but for their sportsmanship and ability to enhance team morale.
Surf
of grueling competition ahead, he wanted everyone well rested. Their goal was to bring home the gold for Hawaiâi, a feat the team hadnât accomplished since 2014.
For 10 of the 12 team members, it was their first time competing as part of the HST. The games would be their first opportunity to showcase their surfing on the world stage. The pressure was on.
On competition day, the team was gifted with big waves and winds at El Sunzal and La Bocana, conditions similar to those at their home breaks in Hawaiâi. WahiawÄâs Äweleiâula Wong, competing in the under-18 girlsâ division, lost in round three but battled her way through seven repechage heats to earn a slot in the final, ultimately claiming gold. In the under-18 menâs division, Swanson and Shion Crawford also worked their way through repechage heats to the final, where they secured gold and silver, respectively. When Luke Tema locked in bronze for the under-16 boys, the HST had amassed the points needed to win the overall team gold.
For Wong, being there as a team added something special to her triumph. âI love how the ISAs are a team thing, because surfing is typically a selfish sport,â she says, recalling how amazing it felt to stand among her teammates as they cheered her on. âThe team dynamic was very beneficial, and we all gained a sense of family after.â
ëëŽ ì€í ìŽ ì€ ëžëŠ¬(Heâeia Pier General Store & Deli)ë ê³µë첎ì ëšìíê² ì¬ë ì
ëì ë±ë¶ë¡ ë ì€ëŠ ëë€.
As a kid growing up in âAiea, Chris Manuel constantly found himself heading east. The windward side appealed to him with its slower pace of life and lush surroundings, the steep green ridges of the Koâolau mountain range providing a natural bulwark against the hustle and bustle of urban island life. In the calm waters between Kahaluâu and KÄneâohe, Manuel fished and dove and made lifelong friends. Heâeia Kea Boat Harbor, especially, became a beloved playground and sanctuary. Over the next 40 years, Manuel would continually return to Heâeia, carving out moments of respite from busy family and work schedules. His entrepreneurial spirit had underpinned a series of productive career endeavors in plumbing and general contracting, real estate and restaurants. So, in 2019, when a friend shared news that the lease for the harborâs little seaside general store was
Anchored by local favorites like hamburger steak and beef stew, the general storeâs deli menu caters to the tight-knit community surrounding Heâeia Kea Boat Harbor.
CULTURE
Heâeia Pier General Store
Manuel works side by side with his 22-year-old daughter, Sydni, who serves as manager of the general store.
up for bid, his interest was piqued. The store, which first opened in the 1960s, had been a longtime gathering hub for the windward community but had stood shuttered the last five years. Manuel considered the prospect carefully. Operating a general store had never been on his radar, yet the idea hit close to his heart.
Manuel, along with partners Anthony and Alyssa Suetsugu, secured the bid and immediately set to work with the help of family and friends. They refurbished the interior and gave the outside a fresh coat of paint. Kitchen equipment was installed in the deli space, and shelves were stocked with everything from tabis and fishing tackle to sunscreen and snacks.
Although the buildout was exciting, Manuel was apprehensive when the general store officially opened its doors in 2020: The storeâs business projections had accounted for a large tourist base, but Oâahuâs visitor industry was crippled in the pandemicâs tight grip. In the harbor, excursion boats sat empty at their slips. âWe were rolling the dice,â Manuel recalls of those early days.
âJust trying to figure out, âHow are we gonna survive?ââ
And then, the local community showed up. With no formal advertising push, news of the general store spread the old-fashioned way: word of mouth. Drawn to the storeâs laid-back vibeâso cherished on the east sideâ retirees came by for coffee and loco moco, fishermen grabbed ice and bentos, and kids cruising on the pier popped in for hook, line, and Icees. Folks began to regularly congregate in and around the general store, talking story and cracking jokes on the green picnic tables outside.
If the vibe at Heâeia Pier General Store feels local, thatâs because it is localâand wonderfully so. âThe most successful times of this place were when it was a familyowned business,â Manuel says, referring to the Choy familyâs 27-year stint that ended in 2008. âFor us coming in, we wanted to learn from the old-timersâwhat this place had been like, what it is now, and what it could be.â
That respect for tradition has led the community to embrace the storeâs new owners with warm support. About a month after opening, the general store assembled a hundred bowls of saimin and quietly invited the community to a sunset saimin night at the pier. âI honestly thought weâd be lucky to sell 40 or 50 bowls and that Iâd end up giving away the rest,â says Sydni, Manuelâs 22-year-old daughter, who has taken the helm as the storeâs manager. That evening, Sydni looked out to a crowd swelling in the harbor area, all eager for the familiar island comfort dish prepared home styleâgarnished with cabbage, char siu, and fishcake slices, and served with a teri beef stick.
âIt was crazy, the line stretched from the store to the far boat ramp,â Sydni says, marveling at the memory.
âWe sold out in 20 minutes.â In true local style, the kitchen crew scrambled to feed the multitude, emptying the refrigerators and cooking up whatever they could to ensure no one left hungry.
âThe store has really helped in tightening our community,â says Heâeia Kea harbormaster Tanya Borabora. From her second-story office on the pier, Borabora has a birdâs-eye view of all the happenings in the harbor and a close rapport with those who frequent it. Each morning while she makes her rounds around the harbor, the uncles drinking coffee by the store call out warm greetings, sharing news and tidbits of pier gossip.
âThey are my eyes and ears of this place,â she says with affection. When the store hosted a music night in
summer 2022, nearly 300 people attended, setting up chairs, blankets, and coolers in the parking lot to enjoy live Hawaiian music under the stars. âPeople came up to me for days sharing how awesome it had been,â Borabora says.
Hearing them recount the evening gave her both delight and chicken skin. âAt the end of the night, everyone stood up and held hands and sang âHawaiâi Alohaâ together. Then everyone helped to clean up before going home,â Borabora says, her voice softening. âI canât think of any other harbor community thatâs like this. Itâs special.â
Today, Manuel lives on the windward side, a quick ten-minute drive from the harbor. Some mornings, he launches his boat from the small dock behind his house and makes his way across the bay during the soft golden hours of dawn. Most afternoons, he settles in on the picnic tables for a pau hana talk-story session with all the harbor regulars. A humble guy, he eschews any praise for reviving the little general store and, in turn, its community. Instead, he prefers to see the gift the store has given him: In heading east, Manuel found his true north.
Heâeia Kea Boat Harbor has long been a beloved playground and sanctuary for locals on the east side of Oâahu.
DE SI GN
Garden State
The seasonâs floral prints and pastel palette bloom in a lush neighborhood in Maunawili.
Images by Daeja Fallas
Styling by Ara Laylo
Hair & makeup by Risa Hoshino
Modeled by Aiala
Production assistance by Taylor Kondo
ï£ Long-sleeve high-neck dress by Fuzzi. Blair tweed and wool patchwork blazer by Andersson Bell. Konstantino pink tourmaline maltese cross pendant on sterling silver adjustable chain necklace and dome corundum tassel earrings from Neiman Marcus. B Blossom ring in pi nk opal with diamonds and 18K rose and white gold by Louis Vuitton. âOpihi necklace, modelâs own.
ï¢ Christian Wijnants oversized short-sleeve shirt and Pali tailored straight trousers in Aster Fields Acid from We Are Iconic. Lele Sadoughi pearly crochet raffia bucket hat from Neiman Marcus. Tambour Spin Time watch by Louis Vuitton. Bracelet, modelâs own.
ï£ Cotton sleeveless waistcoat from HermÚs. LV Volt multi rings in 18K yellow gold by Louis Vuitton. Konstantino mother-of-pearl cross ring from Neiman Marcus.
ï€ Cult Gaia pearl bag from Neiman Marcus.
ï¡ Tibi Italian sporty nylon sleeveless balloon dress from We are Iconic. Sprayed monogram triangle bikini top and B Blossom rings in malachite, white agate, and pink opal with diamonds and 18K yellow, rose, and white gold by Louis Vuitton. Cult Gaia Eos beaded acrylic clutch from Neiman Marcus.
ï£ Metallic scale crossover top and skirt by Louis Vuitton. Konstantino Pythia sterling silver and 18K gold earrings, angelic guardian crystal doublet ring, and dome sterling silver and 18K gold 5-chain bracelet from Neiman Marcus.
In the wilds of Hawaiâi, from the misty upcountry of HÄmÄkua to the lava-covered fields of PÄhoa, mother nature casts an imposing shadow. The less inclined would find it an intimidating setting, but for architect Craig Steely, the islandsâ dynamic topography is a welcome museâa proclivity that revealed itself at the inception of his career. In 1998, the then-fledgling architect was contracted to design a home in the rugged lava fields of Puna on Hawaiâi Island. The resulting property was a sleek, futuristic structure in stark contrast to the acres of craggy aâÄ flows that surrounded it. The home was an early portent
Clockwise from top right, a MEGA Lab research expedition; featherwork artist Enoka Phillips; and architect Craig Steely at his off-grid Musubi House.
of his now-signature site-specific philosophy, where a hyperlocal understanding of the islandsâ land and history offers a fresh interpretation of the oft-referenced âHawaiian sense of place.â
Part of what sets the 58-year-old architect apart is his departure from the stereotypes that have dominated Hawaiâiâs visual identity for decades.
To Steely, plantation-style homes and island motifs have been reduced to copies of copies that now function as symbols of exoticization rather than a true representation of Hawaiâiâs current cultural landscape.
âIâm not Hawaiian, and I didnât grow up in Hawaiâi,â says Steely, who for the past 25 years has lived half of the year in the Hawaiâi Island home he designed for his family. âThatâs why I think itâs kind of appropriation if I just started copying these
The design of Craig Steelyâs Bennet/ Yeo House affords expansive views of Hawaiâi Islandâs HÄmÄkua Coast.
Hawaiian motifs.â Instead of succumbing to tropes, Steely draws inspiration from the land itself, designing homes with structures that are in conversation with their surrounding environment.
Itâs an approach fostered by Steelyâs childhood in the Sierra Nevada foothills, where his natural surroundings fueled a burgeoning understanding of the relationships between the built environment and natural landscape. âSome of my first architectural experiences were in the mountains, hiking around a river or rock formations,â he recalls.
With each home, Steely is building a new visual language for Hawaiâi architecture, one that has already won him several accolades, most recently the Award of Excellence in the 2022 American Institute of Architects Honolulu Design Awards for his work on an off-grid residential project called the Musubi House. Situated amid acres of erstwhile pastureland on Hawaiâi Island, the squat concrete structure rises from the rolling hills as if chiseled out of the mountainside. Floor-toceiling glass windows comprise much of the façade, offering panoramic views of Mauna Kea on one end and the HÄmÄkua Coast on the other. A triangular opening in the center leaves a portion of the home exposed to the elements; when it downpours, as it often does in those high elevations, a curtain of precipitation falls into the atrium belowâSteelyâs version of bringing the outdoors in.
While his portfolio is mainly an ode to Hawaiâiâs remote scenery, Steely has been looking to urban landscapes like Honolulu for an opportunity to flex a different sense of hyperlocality. âEvery project is so sitespecific,â he says. âI have an incredible love and respect for Hawaiâi, and with each project that I do, Iâm learning more about what Hawaiâi really is.â
Invigorating âIke
Growing up, Carrington Manaola Yap was surrounded by âike. This ancestral knowledge, passed down to him through generations of artists in his family, shaped everything about himâhow he sees the world, how he moves through life. Ultimately, it influenced his approach to art, imbuing the designs for his Manaola Hawaiâi clothing line with a cultural rootedness and authenticity that has made him one of Hawaiâiâs preeminent fashion designers in the nine years since he launched the business.
âI was very fortunate to grow up in an environment that fosters that osmosis-style of receiving âike,â says Yap, recalling the formative years he spent gaining a grasp of styling and costume design from his mother, Nani Lim Yap, kumu hula for the award-winning HÄlau Manaola.
He laments how centuries of colonization have fractured the traditional means of receiving âike, which once came from ma ka hana ka âikeâlearning by doing. âA lot of our youth are not being raised in that environment,â Yap says. âIt is a part of our kuleana (responsibility) to take that âike and innovate ways in which we can assure that these traditions will be carried on into the next generation.â
In 2018, Yap launched Hale Kua as an initiative of Manaola Hawaiâi. The culturally driven incubator program is designed to give Indigenous artists access to the same sense of âike he was immersed in as a young creative.
âComing back from Hale Kua, you see the world in this whole different perspective,â says Enoka Phillips, a Hawaiian featherwork artist who was selected for the projectâs first cohort. Before Hale Kua, Phillips was educated in a Hawaiian immersion setting, instilling in him an early understanding of a Hawaiian worldview. In high school, when he became interested in lei hulu (feather lei), he approached master lei maker Florence âAunty Floâ Makekau. Before long, he was forgoing beach hang-outs in favor of afternoons spent in Aunty Floâs garage, learning the deft motions necessary to transform wisps of feathers into vibrant plumes of leiâreceiving âike, as Yap would describe it. Later, his grandmother uncovered tins of lei hulu woven by his great-great-grandmother, revealing that Phillipsâ affinity for the art form carries an ancestral origin. âIt all came together,â Phillips says. âIt was like, this is my calling.â
At the heart of the Hale Kua program is a week-long retreat on Hawaiâi Island designed to nurture this ancestral connection and sharing of âike. Guided by Yap, the artists dance hula, learn chants, visit heiau, and meet with kÄhuna, deepening not just their art practice but their identity as Hawaiians.
After the retreat, Yap continues to mentor the cohort over the next five years, offering industry knowledge gained from his years of success in the fashion business. And for Yap, the artistsâ commitment to their native craft is evidence of the power of âike and its role in keeping Hawaiian culture alive. âCultural art heals,â he says. âWe have to live and breathe [it] to receive the âikeânot just to know what happened before, but to know how weâre going to innovate and navigate forward.â
Thinking Outside the Lab
Acrowd is gathered in the remodeled second floor of the MokupÄpapa Discovery Center in downtown Hilo in 2022. Sleek wooden panels line the interior, infusing the space with convivial warmth. Hundreds of guests mingle in front of screens playing stylish surf
videos on loop and installations of local artwork and handcarved surfboards.
Despite the atmosphere, this is no art opening or surfwear product launch. It is the unveiling of the Multiscale Environmental Graphical Analysis (MEGA) Lab, the new headquarters for a consortium of researchers making waves in Hawaiâiâs scientific community.
A party for scientists may seem unorthodox, but thatâs among the misconceptions the MEGA Lab hopes to rectify as it works to rebrand the publicâs perception of scientists and, by extension, science. âOne of the biggest reasons why thereâs low scientific literacy is people donât identify themselves with science,â says MEGA Lab chemist Cliff Kapono, who attributes the dayâs growing mistrust around science to the wide gulf that exists between scientists and the general public. âIf we show that normal people are scientists, [that] you are just like us, then thatâs going to elevate peopleâs abilities to accept science.â
Itâs an urgent objective for the MEGA Lab, whose research focuses on climate change and ocean ecology. As human activities threaten marine life at an alarming pace, MEGA Lab founder John H.R. Burns sees action beyond the scientific community as the avenue for real change. âIf you donât take a different approach, youâre going to keep doing the same thing, which is not fast enough to keep up with the problem that weâre seeing,â he says. This means innovating outside of the laboratory and designing new methods of communicating that effectively capture the publicâs attention.
Fundamental to this approach is storytelling. The MEGA Labâs online presence, for example, is as media savvy as a hip surf brand. Colorful images capture the researchers performing tasks that look equal parts work and play: swimming in Hawaiâiâs waters alongside tiger sharks, traveling the world to study coral reefs, and no shortage of surf sessions in between. Contextualizing these aspirational posts, though, are captions on ocean acidification, coral bleaching, and ecosystems in peril.
A growing archive of documentary films and multimedia content also serves to broadcast the MEGA Labâs pioneering research, which applies photogrammetry to render three-dimensional maps that aid in tracking ecological changes in coral reefs throughout the Pacific. The teamâs documentary about mapping the reef at Fijiâs renowned surf spot Cloudbreak, created in collaboration with the footwear brand Reef, epitomizes the MEGA Labâs approach when it comes to translating marine science into engaging narratives. âWeâre trying to innovate how science communicates,â Kapono says. âInstead of being footnotes, we produce media products that are engaging, fun, and
In gaining insight into the reefs beneath the worldâs most beloved surf breaks, the MEGA Lab team hope their findings will ripple beyond the scientific community.
showcase sides [of science] that people can relate to.â
All of this is in hopes that a better understanding of climate science, and the habitats it seeks to protect, will galvinize the public toward a sea change. âWeâre doing stuff with the purpose of having an impact,â Burns says. âWeâre building new ways of studying and saving our reefs, but then giving that away [to make] sure that the impact goes beyond the doors of a lab space.â
t ten, I boarded my first international flight: nine hours from Honolulu to blizzardy Tokyo, followed by seven hours to humid Bangkok. In the morning, my mother and I set out on foot, the 35mm Olympus film camera she gave me hanging at my side. I was enamored by the gold-plated Buddhas and the juice stands overflowing with limes and sugarcane, and simultaneously overwhelmed by the myriad smells of the city, so unlike anything Iâd known growing up in rural Maui. At a flower market, my mother bought me an amulet of crown flowers, jasmine, and rosebuds that I wore around my wrist like a bracelet, burying my nose in the heady scents as we walked through the city.
Twenty-two years later, four months after my mom died, I taxied to a flower market on Chakkraphet Road and bought myself a crown flower, jasmine, and rosebud amulet. This time it didnât fit around my wrist, so I affixed it to my hair. The streets werenât as vivid as I remembered: The smell of tuk-tuk exhaust and wet concrete after a hard rain, the savory and sweet scents of fish sauce and palm sugar wafting from street food stallsâit all hung subtly in the background, less colorful the second time around.
Then, in a narrow alley bordering the market, I spotted a row of five-gallon buckets packed tightly with deep purple lotuses, yet to bloom. They reminded me
of my motherâher affinity for the East, her love of meditation and Sufi poetry and brightly colored textiles, especially those with a purple hue.
We had planned to return to Thailand together. I renewed her passport and started planning the trip earlier that year, before her cancer took a turn. She died in our home in HÄna that summer, with my brother and me beside her.
I decided to go on our trip anyway, which is how I found myself in the flower market that Septemberâ and later in the emergency room of a hospital in Chiang Mai with a persistent pain in my chest. After an EKG, a blood test, and a chest X-ray, a soft-spoken ER doctor concluded that nothing appeared to be wrong with me. I knew then that the pain of losing my motherâand, not much earlier, my fatherânow resided in my heart.
Hoping to ease my anxiety, my partner, Jack, and I took a taxi to Looper Co., a cocktail bar nestled between the Ping River and the northeast gate to the Old City, to try to laugh off the ordeal. Seated in the window of the dimly lit bar, drinks in hand and lightning flashing outside, we decided to stick to our plan to ride a motorbike north into the mountains for a few days, despite the rain and my anxiousness.
The next afternoon, we traveled north along a rain-drenched straightaway into a sunny patchwork
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of rice fields, banana trees, and A-frame houses. Templesâsome of them dignified teak structures, others campy, glimmering mosaics of colorâjutted from the otherwise flat landscape, and dogs lounged about on the quiet roads.
We stopped at an open market in Mae Taeng, where we found foi thong, or golden thread, the elusive, auspicious egg-yolk-and-pandan sweet weâd sampled once in Samui but hadnât found again since. From there we ventured into elephant country. Twice, one of the magnificently large, leathery beasts trundled down the road opposite us, moving from one riverside camp to the next.
The river widened and muddied as we traced its curves deeper into the mountains. Landslides became more frequent, and at times we could not see the road beneath the mud. When our tires spun fruitlessly, I hopped off the motorbike and walked ahead until the mud thinned. The splatter marks of ochre clay on my ankles reminded me of Mauiâs red dirt.
Suddenly missing the safety and surety of home, I grew more and more anxious as the road narrowed and disappeared beneath the mud. It was near dusk, we were running out of water, and weâd already lost cell service. I insisted we turn back; Jack urged us to trudge ahead and turn back only if conditions got worse.
Textile artist Kachama Perez is pictured at her secluded studio in Thailandâs Mae Rim district.
While exploring Chiang Mai by motorbike, the writer discovers a quiet, overgrown courtyard hidden behind a row of luxurious shops in the Wat Ket area.
Instead, they got better. Soon we were climbing uphill on mudless roads, past lush hillside coffee groves. Relief washed over me as we neared our abode for the night: a treehouse perched beside a river on a coffee farm. The pink hibiscus and ginger planted at the gate made me feel at home.
The next day and the next, we made our way through the districts of Mae Taeng and Mae Rim, discovering secluded art studios, unpeopled temples, and quaint farming villages. I would never have taken these routes if Iâd been on the trip with my mom as plannedâat least, not on a motorbikeâbut I carried her with me nonetheless.
She gave me my love of travel. Treading through the mountains of northern Thailand, I did my best to summon her resilience, her ease, her ability to stay calm in difficult situations. For the first time in days, the ache in my chest subsided, interrupted by recognition of the joy she would have felt in these places, and in being there with me.
Still, I longed for her company, her bright eyes that lit up at pleasures both simple and profound, but another part of me knew she was thereâinseparable from the woman I am because of her. I feel her most in the woods, when I pick a brilliant flower and breathe in its scent, or when a warm wind brushes against me, as it so often did in the balmy highlands of Chiang Mai.
Guest service agent Zayisha Volgenau credits Lotus Honoluluâs singular experience to a thoughtful mix of amenities crafted with guestsâ convenience in mind, such as on-property car rentals and beach cruiser bikes.
âYou feel it right away when you step inside the lobby,â she says. âThe first-class service, the inviting, upscale ambiance, and the endless creature comforts strike that perfect balance of leisure and elegance that visitors appreciate.â
Like its namesake, the lotus flowerâa symbol of purity, resilience, and renewalâLotus Honolulu is a haven of contentment, where an enjoyable rest is enriched by the wildness of the sea just a stoneâs throw away.
lotushonoluluhotel.com
808.922.1700 | 2885 Kalakaua Avenue Honolulu, HI 96815
Text by Lindsey Kesel
Images courtesy of Lotus Honolulu
Tucked quietly between Diamond Head and the beach, Lotus Honolulu is a boutique hotel experience like no other.
Island Verdure
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In this jaunt through lush montane forests and coastal groves, get to know some of the diverse plant life that earned Kauaâi its nickname, the Garden Isle.
(Foreground) Pictured amid the lush canopy of HanakÄpÄ«âai Valley along the NÄ Pali Coast, âieâie is prized in Native Hawaiian culture for its extensive âie (roots), which it uses to scale the length of host trees. Growing up to 20 feet long, the roots were traditionally used to weave baskets, fishtraps, and kiâiâelaborate statues that symbolize âakua (Hawaiian gods).
(Background) A versatile plant, hulumoa can be found in a variety of environments, from the jungle foliage of Wailua, shown here, to the arid terrain of Hawaiâi â s dry tropical forests. Its name translates to âchicken feathers,â so named for its resemblance to a roosterâs tail.
Aâaliâi, photographed here along Waimea Canyonâs Kukui Trail, is a pioneer species. Itâs among the first to take root after a lava flow and one of the few native plants able to sustain fires. As such, âaâaliâi represents rootedness and resilience, as exhibited by the âÅlelo noâeau (Hawaiian proverb), âHe âaâaliâi kÅ« makani mai au; âaâohe makani nÄna e kÅ«laâi.â I am a wind-resistant âaâaliâi; no wind can topple me over.
(Above) Often mistaken for the more common hÄpuâu, âamaâu is distinguished by the fiery red hue that colors younger ferns. Itâs an apt attribute, for it is commonly found sprouting amid cooled lava flows, though âamaâu also thrives in damp conditions, like here in the KÅkeâe forest.
(Left) Brought to the islands by Polynesian voyagers, âÅlena possesses medicinal properties that have been valued for centuries. It is used in lÄâau lapaâau (plant medicine) to remedy a variety of ailments, and kapa makers favor its bright yellow pigment to create dyes. It can be identified in the wild by its fragrant inflorescence, as seen growing here in Kalalau Valley.
(Right) Ferns, like this palaâÄ, were among the first plants to colonize the islands. In Native Hawaiian culture, each fern species served a distinct purpose. PalaâÄ, pictured here in KÅkeâe and Wainiha, is known as the lace fern for its filigreed fronds. The goddess PÄâÅ«opalaâÄ is named after the fern, as she often manifests as a skirt made of palaâÄ.
(Below) Characterized by its signature golden blooms, âilima is a favorite of lei makers for its delicate yet vivid petals. Giving an âilima lei is considered an act of wellwishing. A single-strand lei can take up to thousands of âilima to complete. Thankfully, âilima thrives in any condition, like along the dry southern coast of Kauaâi, as seen here.
(Left) âIwaâiwa is the only maidenhead fern native to Hawaiâi, a rare sight in the wild compared to the more common varieties later introduced to the islands. âIwaâiwa favors damp and shaded environments, like sea caves along coastlines, as photographed here inside Maniniholo Dry Cave in HÄâena.
(Right, foreground) As this fernâs name suggests, wahine noho mauna (mountain-dwelling woman) grows solely in high-elevation forests. Easy to miss, its fronds reach only up to eight inches long. Its presence in a forest, as seen here along the Alakaâi Swamp Trail, signifies a healthy ecosystem.
(Right, background) This stream at Keahua Arboretum in Wailua feeds a variety of foliage, including paiâiâiha, or downy wood fern, the first fern species to be recorded as naturalized in Hawaiâi in 1887.
(Above and at right) Valued for its versatility, hala is a necessity in Native Hawaiian culture. The leaves are woven into mats, pillows, and thatching. The roots are fashioned into cordage. Hala flourishes across Hawaiâi in coastal groves or in valleys, like along HanakÄpÄ«âa Trail, pictured at right. Male trees, pictured above, grow fragrant white flowers called hÄ«nano, whose supple bracts are woven into mats. As male hala trees are scarcer than their female counterparts, a hÄ«nano bloom is particularly prized.
FA RE
delectable hidden gems
Best in Glass
by Sarah Burchard
by Chris Rohrer & Camille Huguenot
Text
Images
From Franceâs
Beaujolais region to an underground wine shop in Kakaâako, track the rise of a movement
in this primer on lowintervention wines.
Take a look at the bottles lining the shelves of your local wine shop. Because the U.S. government allows winemakers to add more than 72 chemicals to their products, practically all of the wine on the market contains additives, coloring agents, and synthetic yeasts used by high-tech winemakers to manipulate its color, fragrance, and flavor. Luckily, delicious wines without chemicals do exist. The difficult part is finding them.
Rick Lilley became a natural wine advocate after traveling to France in 2016 and 2017 with the sales team from wine importer Kermit Lynch, who, in the â70s, was among the first U.S. wine importers to champion natural wine and has since become one of the most trusted names in the wine business. When Lilley returned from France, he urged distributers to carry Lynchâs wines so that he could offer them at 12th Ave Grill, where Lilley served as wine director. The more natural wines Lilley tried, the more he lost his taste for conventional, New World winemaking. When guests began asking Lilley where they could purchase the wines he was pouring, he came up with the idea for a natural wine shop.
When he and his wife, Elaine, opened Brix and Stonesâa wine shop and cigar lounge tucked inside an auto-collision shop on Waimanu Streetâin early 2020, they were committed to transparency. More than a third of the inventory consists
of natural and low-intervention wines made with organic grapes and no additives or chemicals. In spring 2023, the Lilleys plan to expand the business by opening a wine and whiskey bar below the shop and offering tastings and education on the wines and spirits it carries. Guests will have the opportunity to learn how the grapes are grown, how the wines are made, and what exactly is in them.
Natural wines begin on biodiverse vineyards, where the grapes are grown without pesticides and cultivated alongside animals, trees, and other crops to maintain the landâs ecological balance, which in turn produces clean wines that are high in antioxidants and other nutrients. Low-intervention wines contain low levels of sulfur dioxide, a stabilizer and preservative; wines that are 100 percent natural omit sulfur dioxide altogether. Both are fermented with wild yeast as opposed to âdesignerâ yeasts created to manipulate the flavor and fragrance of wine. There is no sugar added to increase the alcohol content, nor is there water added to decrease alcohol content. Unlike conventional wines, which are often filtered with egg whites or fish bladders, natural wines are 100 percent vegan.
Natural wine may be seeing a rise in popularity over recent decades, but Georgians have been producing wine using natural methods for the past 8,000 years. The knowledge was almost lost during the Soviet reign, when monocropping was enforced, and most of the worldâs vineyardsâwhich also produced wine by traditional means for thousands of yearsâbegan introducing synthetic chemicals with the rise of industrial agriculture after World War II.
The natural wine movement began in 1965, when winemakers from the French province of Beaujolais returned to their grandfathersâ methods of farming organically and making wine without manipulation. Once U.S. wine importers discovered wines like these in France, the movement migrated to New York and California.
In 2001, Alice Feiring was the first wine journalist in the U.S. to advocate for natural wine. She called out wine critic Robert Parker and his 100-point wine-scoring system, arguing that it encourages a formulaic approach to winemaking, and also chided large wine corporations for influencing sommeliers to train themselves and their guests to view conventional wines as âcorrectâ and natural wines as flawed. By 2010 natural wine was trending in the U.S., although natural wine producers still represent only a tiny fraction of the industry.
Brix and Stones owner Rick Lilley considers Domaine Bretonâs biodynamic wines among the best in Franceâs fabled Loire Valley. Triptych by Camille Huguenot.
Early adopters fear that too much emphasis on the word ânaturalâ will encourage winemakers to capitalize on a trendy new buzzword. Prices are beginning to creep up due to demand, and wine buyers are finding it increasingly difficult to source these wines due to their already limited availability. And with the exception of anomalies such as Santa Cruzâs Bonny Doon Vineyard, which began including ingredient lists on its bottles in 2007, it is difficult for consumers to know whether a wine is natural or not by its labelâthe industry doesnât require winemakers to disclose their ingredients.
Luckily, in Kakaâako, Brix and Stones is there to help. âThere are a handful of importers dedicated to natty wines,â Lilley says. âOnce I get familiar with them, Iâm able to learn more about the producers they carry and their philosophies. Since the term ânaturalâ is unregulated, you really have to decide on your own what your beliefs are.â
Text by Lindsey Kesel Images courtesy of Hotel Renew
Tucked among the sea of accommodation options dotting Hawaiâiâs most famous strip of sand, WaikÄ«kÄ« Beach, Hotel Renew is a breath of fresh air for those looking to recharge, explore, or do a little of both. An inviting and upscale home away from home, Hotel Renew promises an intimate guesthouse experience geared toward locals and visitors with an affinity for luxury and an appetite for adventure. Everyone from solo travelers to familiesâand any small pets along for the rideâare welcome at Hotel Renew.
The seaside setting features charming spaces with decadent design details that combine mid-century and modern tropical aesthetics. The ambience is plush, contemporary, and comfortable, with Pacific Ocean views filling many of the windows. Hotel Renewâs sleek suites feature luxe linens, mid-century furnishings, and textured white oakâplus a long list of entertaining accoutrements, such as a flat-screen TV, free Wi-Fi, mini-fridge, and Illy espresso machine. Spa-worthy bath amenities, personal fitness equipment, and other extra special touches add to the indulgent and fun boutique hotel vibe.
nightcaps, thereâs something for everyone: Beyond coffee, the menu includes smoothies and cold-pressed juices, wellness shots, fine liquor, and vacation favorites such as bloody marys and mimosas.
By setting everything one could want within reach, the hospitality team at Hotel Renew has crafted an oasis of calm for savvy travelers seeking a more refined approach to rest and relaxation. Visitors are often pleasantly surprised when they settle in, says hotel manager Rena Agngarayngay, a reaction that is completely by design: âWeâre aiming for a sophisticated version of serenity and a fresh perspective on the WaikÄ«kÄ« experience that hits all the right notes for our guests.
Hotel Renew is the perfect home base for adventure and renewal, with a distinct sense of community that really enriches the few days they spend with us.â
hotelrenew.com
808.687.7700 | 129 Paoakalani Avenue Honolulu, HI 96815
For the Common Good
Aloha United Way appreciates our Toqueville Society members who each contribute more than $10,000 per year to help fund the highest priority community initiatives in Hawaiâi. Your support means the world to so many.
Our Tocqueville Society members share more than a commitment to doing goodâthese like-minded community leaders are passionate about driving community change and expanding Aloha United Wayâs legacy of courage, creativity, and partnership.
Contact Ellen Kazama, assistant vice president of Aloha United Way, to join the more than 130 Toqueville Society members whose contributions light the way for community change.
Ellen Kazama 808.543.2223 | ekazama@auw.org auw.org/tocqueville-society
Inside the tower, Älia features the most diverse collection of amenities Kobayashi Group has offered. Two pools, a bowling alley, sauna and spa complete with a cold plunge, pool-side cabanas, and two fitness centers are but a few of Äliaâs extensive residential offerings. Outside, thousands of feet of open space form our famed Great Lawn, making it easy to slip into nature without ever having to leave the premises.
