Tīpurepure Au Va’ine is an exhibition featuring the works of the Porirua based Cook Islands sewing group of the same name and multi-disciplinary artist, Jamie Berry. Through the work of tīvaevae and soundscape, these artists pay homage to whakapapa, imagery and oro (sound) reminiscent of their homelands. This offsite exhibition at Begonia House, curated by Tehani Ngapare Rau-Te-Tara Buchanan, honours the many Cook Islanders who have found Begonia House to be a place of connection and inspiration while living in the diaspora.

In Iterations/Alterations, Catherine Griffiths expands upon her past work while also responding to current events. Griffiths presents a body of work that is ever-evolving, referencing global social and political issues. Unwavering support of Palestine is a focus for the artist, who interrogates her priorities and perspectives amidst the genocide being committed by Israel. Included in this exhibition is a limited edition run of GAZ/A prints—the proceeds from which will go to a charity supporting Palestinians in Gaza.

Low Tide emerges as a contemplation of queer mundanity. Through the mundane, Manuha’apai Vaeatangitau (Manu Vaea) counteracts the pressure to be extraordinary and instead highlights the quiet, repetitive and often unremarkable moments that define everyday life.

By insisting on the ordinary, Vaea aims to “induce a state that allows for emotions to simmer under the skin without a need for expression.” [1] She has been shaped by ties to family, space and place in Tāmaki Makaurau and Tonga, observing that “these geographies often serve as sacred, yet fractured mirrors, reflecting back my own inner turbulence.” [2] Scenes from the domestic life of the artist in both of her homes in Tāmaki and Tonga feature moments alone, art-making with whānau and nights out with friends. Centering Low Tide around queer mundanity and what sits in the cracks of that—grief, malaise, regret—has allowed Vaea to work through her own mamae without resorting to the oft-overused trauma and pervasive larger-than-life love narratives regularly imposed on queerness. 

1. Email correspondence with the artist, 27/01/2025.

2. Ibid.

Maungarongo (Ron) Te Kawa’s exhibition Rutu, Rongo and Rita originated last summer, when the artist spent time as the Rita Angus resident at the historic cottage in Te Whanganui-a-Tara.

During this period, Te Kawa researched Angus while beginning a series of nine wall hangings. Angus’ painting Rutu (1951) in particular interested him. While the work is often referred to as one of Angus’ many self-portraits, Bronwyn Lloyd notes that Angus herself considered it an “imaginary portrait.” [1] Described as a “beautiful, incongruous mash-up of cultures” by Matariki Williams, Rutu is “the most visible and well-known exemplar of a person of colour in Angus’s catalogue” [2], an aspect that holds Te Kawa’s attention as he explores the themes of skin colour politics in Aotearoa’s past, present, and future. In Rutu Goes to Waitangi for Target Practice (2024-25), Te Kawa asks what kind of Pākehā Rutu would be now; ultimately believing that she would be covered in “Tino Rangatiratanga swag…hurling dildos at David Seymour.” [3] Expanding beyond Rutu, he has taken figures from Māori mythology such as Pania of the Reef and pop culture including Amy Winehouse, and re-envisioned them with compassion, humour and hope. The works displayed in this exhibition are an exploration into the themes of skin colour politics in Aotearoa’s past, present, and future.

1. Bronwyn Llyod, “Rutu”, Te Papa, https://collections.tepapa.govt.nz/object/39499.

2. Matariki Williams, “Rita and Rutu”, Newsroom, 01/02/2022, https://newsroom.co.nz/2022/02/01/waitangi-week-rita-in-blackface/.

3. Email correspondence with the artist, 20/01/2025.

In Extraordinary Contact, Alexandra McFarlane delves into the liminal space between belief and experience, exploring alien abduction narratives as a lens to examine trauma, memory, and the search for meaning. Anchored in her own childhood memory of a devastating house fire in Ōtautahi, the exhibition reflects on how extraordinary events shape our sense of self and reality.

In Funny how I’m always on the head of a longing arrow, Henrietta Fisher presents an anthology of vignettes interrogating the interplay of bodies, technology and practices of communion.