The Tales
Today we have the distinct pleasure of speaking with Donna McLeod, a significant voice in the arts here in the Tasman Region. For our listeners who may be new to your work, could you begin by telling us a little bit about who you are and the various aspects of your artistic practise and what are the key areas you're currently involved in?
I'm lucky enough to whakapapa to this whenua. I have been in theatre for 40 years, which is really quite a beautiful thing. I started out, I always loved theatre and I grew up in a, back in the 80s, Christianity was a thing, you know, and Youth for Christ was an amazing thing and because I was a good girl, I was only allowed to go to Christian things, but there was a lot of theatre and a lot of music.
And so Youth for Christ was great for me and we were often performing in huge theatre spaces with microphones, lighting and things like that. So, you know,I can remember doing, you know, Bob Dylan's You've Got to Serve Somebody and breaking that up into a play. But even before that, storytelling, Sunday school, that sort of stuff.
And then the big thing in New Zealand was the convention, the teen convention for Youth for Christ, where thousands of teenagers would gather at Wellington Town Hall for the Labour Weekend. So CTC and, you know, just the musicians. And when you look back at the people who went to that and became amazing musicians, you know, you've got a long list of people who started out in church groups and Youth for Christ, great opportunity to play, you know, to play with light, to play with sound, often having really good technical people as well.
So, yeah, Youth for Christ church. But even before that, as a child, I talked a lot. And there's a story that my grandfather was dying from tuberculosis, so he was bedbound.
And I was the child left in his room to, if he died, I was five. So if he coughed and died, well, then I had to alert people. And so I was just stuck in his room, talking to him and just talked, talked and talked.
And yeah, and I think being Māori, you know, you grow up in an environment, I was lucky enough to travel a lot with my nanny. So you were listening to Whaikōrero, you were listening to people standing up in a room. And while I wasn't Māori speaker as such, of course, the drama, of course, of the speeches, going to pōhiri at a young age, and seeing the passion, particularly around land, and what was happening.
So I was very, very lucky to be able to grow up in an environment where my talking, my expressing myself was nurtured. And I really think my parents as well, they allowed me to debate. So I would read the newspaper.
My dad worked at McKinney's, and he would be home at four o'clock. And he would get the newspaper, and we would spread the newspaper out on the dining room table, and we would go through the newspaper. So I was, and my father was Pākehā.
And that was an odd thing back then too, was my mother was Māori, my dad who adopted me died when I was five, and I got a new dad as such. Both of them were Pākehā. So I was nurtured, very much nurtured within my home, within my whānau.
And even when my nanny died, and I was 15, my grandmother's children allowed me to say what I needed to say about her death notice and about different things. So it was an acknowledgement that I was being nurtured to tell stories, you know, and often when we gossiped, it was sort of like, Donna, do you remember when? You know, and to tell the stories. I was very lucky because my mother ran her business from our house.
She made curtains. And when the Think Big, I grew up in New Plymouth, when the Think Big industry hit New Plymouth, she made 360 houses worth of curtains, employed my cousins. And so our house turned into this mini workshop of making curtains.
And so really nurtured in that whānau space. Was nurtured in school space because I was different. I was Māori, but I was apparently intelligent and nice and all those things.
And yeah, the Church, the Youth for Christ thing was kind of, for me, fun. And I came up with a lot of skills from that. And then going to uni was very much about going to drama school, but I was young or doing, I went to Vic or doing Theatre 2, which was in your second year at Vic.
But I was lucky enough. During my first year back, I started, I was looking for a job. And so I worked at the Gavette Brewster Art Gallery in New Plymouth and had this amazing experience meeting Don Driver at the door every morning, surrounded by Len Lye's work.
Robin Kiwa's Wāhine Toa had just arrived and was met by protesting Christian women. So I started this theatre group telling the stories of Pārihaka. And from then I went back to Wellington, ended up with a guy called Dennis O'Reilly.
I walked in and he'd just been talking about where all these Māori people. He gave me a job. I wanted to market Māori art from Pārihaka.
He gave me a job, umbrella'd me in this organisation called Whanganui Āta Tāra. So I'm walking down Taranaki Street, borrowed clothes from friends, you know, sort of corporate looking clothes, wandering down the road, ended up in the industrial area warehouse, climbed up the stairs, Whanganui Āta Tāra, Blackpower Headquarters, National Headquarters. And it was fantastic.
So, um, and then ended up in theatre because I wanted to look at Māori International. I was invited to meet Darcy Nicholas, who's, you know, amazing international Māori artist. And Darcy introduced me to the Wellington Arts Centre.
And I ended up in a group called Te Uhu Whakaari a month before they went on a national tour with New Zealand Students' Arts Council. So then I travelled New Zealand with them. So really lucky.
And you look now at the people in that group. So Apirana Taylor, Bryce Smith-Grace, Himiona Grace, Marangi Kura-Campbell and the people that came on were Iti Wate-Ete, Tina Cook. So amazing group who have now gone on to do their thing within New Zealand art, within Māori art.
So huge, huge, long history. I'm old. I feel it sometimes, but yeah.
So you've been involved in quite a lot of diverse projects from library art coordination to theatre. How have these different roles and experiences shaped your overall artistic perspective?
I think that, and anybody who works in the arts, I'm sure, will get me. I think in many ways, art is a spiritual experience and you just get struck by this bolt of lightning.
And you can be anywhere and suddenly you're writing a bit of a story, and you kind of read it back and you say, oh my God, where did that come from? I have no idea where that came from. And then you add your bit to it. The Te Noina a Kumu, the Motuika Library, was an absolute gift.
I tend to see things, and I say this a lot, I tend to see everything in film, you know, and so I see it, I hear it, I feel it, I smell it. Now when I can taste it, I know I've got it, you know. And so it's using all your senses.
So when I walked into this building, which basically had the floor down and a view with the walls, it was like, okay, how can I tell stories in this building? And what are the stories that need to be told? And Huriawa, I loved it, and it's interesting that Robin Kawikiwa just passed away recently, and I really want to acknowledge her. I loved Wahine Toa. I loved her book, Taniwha, and, you know, there's a taniwha in my river.
Some people say it's a log, but I know it's a taniwha. I loved that book, and it was a book that I wish I had written. It was a book that I gave to newborn babies.
You know, whenever a baby was born, I was looking for that book, because it talked about the magic of this taniwha taking them to see the unborn child, Roa Moko, taking them up into the sky to see their sky father, Ranginui, down to the earth to see Papa Tuanuku, and the magic of that is just beautiful. And I also went to Robin and Patricia's book, The Children of Champion Street in Porirua, and A Woodcrest Tuna and Children of Champion Street, and that was the first time I'd been into Porirua in a mainly Pasifika Maori environment as such, and that was magic to be in that community. So when I looked at this library, I knew we had a taniwha, and the taniwha's name was Huriawa, and Huriawa comes from the Waikoropupu Springs, underneath the caves, pops up at what we call the resurgence, the Motuika resurgence, goes down the river, goes to the sea, and turns back again and heads home.
And for me, it was this, right, we've got the taniwha, which Ngati Rarua, Te Atiawa and Ngati Tama, we all acknowledge, we had this taniwha, how can we thread this taniwha through this building? Because it was huge, the building was absolutely huge when I first went into it, with no walls, and then it was about getting a group of artists and telling stories as you went through the building. So with the taniwha, okay, what was here before the taniwha? How do we acknowledge all the things that were there before the taniwha? Was there anything here before the taniwha? So we have this wonderful piece of petrified wood at the entranceway, and then we go into the building and we think, okay, we've always had the mountains, we've always had the rivers, and we've always had the sea, and that's a beautiful piece by Natalie Kere. And on the other wall is just this earth, the earth, how beautiful the earth is.
So that whole entranceway, no humans, just nature, and then to go through the door and to have our Aunty Cupi's korowai, which was a beautiful taonga which many of us were involved in actually making, to have that there as a sanctuary, to be wrapped around people, to keep people safe. So it was just adding those stories and going through the building and just telling stories or feelings to a group of artists, and then artists going, I can do that, I can do this, I can do that, you know, and then going, cool, go away, show me what you've got, then coming back into the room and saying, yeah, look what I've done. And that is a gift to be able to meet with iwi, to meet with storytellers, to get all the stories gathered, to walk through a building with artists, telling those stories, and for them to say, yep, I've got this, Donna.
So that is what that building is. It is layers of artistic, spiritual, but a lot of goodwill. And, you know, I had artists that I had to force to pay because, Mat Tait, because I'd say things like, I'm part of this community, Donna, I love libraries, you know, don't worry, don't pay me, you know, and I'm going, actually, I need to acknowledge you as an artist, there is a budget here, I am paying you, you know.
And that was the most important thing about the library, was that the artists were paid fairly, you know. Now, Natalie's work, we could never afford to buy it, we could never afford most of that work in the library now. And even within that, you know, if you look at that poi section by Hamuwera and other whanaunga, that's the largest public display of traditional poi in the country.
It's a beautiful piece of work. And it just hangs there, you know. And it's so magical.
And I always go into that library full of gratitude, beautiful memories. I really need to acknowledge the project manager, Adam from TDC (Tasman District Council), and Glen, who's the head of libraries. They worked in a way where they trusted me.
And it's really, artists don't do nine to five. They're often doing two in the morning, or four in the morning, or, you know. So I had Glenys's personal phone number and everything.
So I'm texting her at two and just saying, oh, look, I've just finished speaking to so and so. You know, I have the plans tomorrow, to you tomorrow morning, you know. I loved it, because it gave me the accountability that they needed, which, you know, in most contracts, you have to sit there and go, you know, I did this, this and this.
I just had this running record constantly of conversations I was having, of emails that I was having with people, sending them on to her. So they gave me this wonderful freedom of being able to work in my way. And trusting, there was a lot of trust there.
And a lot of, a lot of love, you know. And, you know, you're also working, I, when I first went on site, I was the only woman on site, okay, how's this going to be? It was fantastic. Every builder, every trader treated me absolutely with respect.
I asked dumb questions. I was allowed to ask the dumb questions. I just had so much, they wanted this project to work.
They wanted it to be a beautiful project for a community. So a lot of really good intentions there. And I think every group that comes into that library now, that is there to perform or there to read or watch their book or, I think people get that, that it's a beautiful space to be in.
And it was blessed by so many different people in so many different ways. So that was great. Um, I've worked, I love doing, I love theatre, but I've got a show in 11 days or something.
What's the show called?
It's called He Koi Awhiowhio. And it's, we had an art exhibition at the Refinery Gallery last, about two weeks ago. And it was called Awhiowhio He Koi.
So awhio is a gentle breeze. So awhio is like doubling up on the word. So it goes from gentleness to this, you know, vortex as such.
And of course, the He Koi is the walk that we took this time to Parliament. And so it's, the exhibition was about the turbulence of that time, of that walk. This is about the walk and dealing with the turbulence as such.
And I work really, I surround myself with really good tech people. I have worked with some of the top tech people in this whole region. From Michael, who went to Motuika High School, and now owns this amazing company, to JR at the Theatre Royal.
I've worked with Klaus. I've worked with Jim, who installed the library. Cutting edge, I cannot say enough about.
And I work a lot with Lee Woodman. And he's an artist, but he's also able to, I will wave my arms around, and I'll be talking like blah, blah, blah, blah, and I see this, and I see that, and da, da, da. He can see it, and he can build it.
So he's my best buddy. And I had Matthew Bader for a long time. He was our sound person.
I worked with Te Uroha since the Christchurch earthquake, and that was Maihi and Gaynor. Maihi was with Kitikana, we're in London. Gaynor has a number four hat in Greece with Y. You know, she's travelled to Womax, and Womads, and all over the world.
She's amazing. So those are some of the people. And then I have Riverside.
Riverside is, you know, I taught at the high school. I worked with amazing kids, and parents who allowed me to do all these weird things, like in the middle of winter, have their kids floating on a raft in the middle of the swimming pool. You know, if they fell in, they could possibly be electrocuted or freeze, whatever, you know.
But, you know, parents were amazing and trusted me to look after their kids to teach. I taught parihaka to kids, and I said, look, you need to talk to your parents first, you know. And parents came back and said, yeah, we're all good.
I did a play called Shudder, which was, used a lot of the F words, was a New Zealand play. We were the first school to do it. I saw it at Young and Hungry in Wellington, at Batts Theatre, and I loved it, loved it, loved it.
And it is by, I can see her, but I'm not going to remember her now, Pip Hall, Roger Hall's daughter. Absolutely stunning play. And parents trusted me to do that play.
They read the scripts, they came back and said, yeah, that's okay. Beautiful play, beautiful play. So I had a lot of minds about building communities, about building the expats around me.
Riverside is amazing. Yeah, we love the place. We spent so much time there.
Riverside as a community, as a network, as a, for me, is amazing. I did a lot of shows with Riverside. And magic would happen.
I mean, I met Damara. I mean, she'd been travelling the world doing aerial work, and I get to have people like Damara in the show I'm involved in. The choir, you know, I've worked with the choir several times.
We, you know, I would give them a sort of like a Māori rasta song to sing, and they were all good, and they got it, you know. There were so many, the Tasman, Mushwicka region is magic. And many a time I've just gone to somebody, I can hear a cello or a violin or a harp, and they'll go, oh, my next door neighbour plays a harp.
They're only here on holiday from the Canadian, you know, National Orchestra or something, you know. You're not getting sort of like the kid who plays in their room. You're getting these amazing people where, you know, people come up, do you know who that was? And I have to, I don't know, you know.
And, you know, I had staying with me this wonderful French woman whose dad was a Kiwi. And he lives on a boat in the middle of Paris, and crazy. Now, he was a Kiwi, and he went to France in the 60s to some amazing school.
And he holds the Guinness Book of Records for playing the piano in the highest possible, they climbed a mountain and dragged this piano up with them. And, I mean, this is the weirdness of this community. And all you really have to do is ask, you know, what is it that you can see? What is it that you can hear? Just tell somebody.
And they'll go, oh, I know somebody who plays anything, you know. Or they come from an amazing dance background, or they do aerial work, or we had Matariki, and we were looking for a firefighter, a firefighter, a fire breather. And suddenly, we've got this guy because he's from Australia, who's staying at Riverside, and his gig in Wellington was cancelled because of the weather.
So, he played in our show. And he had been commissioned to do this piece of work at Te Papa, but he couldn't do it, because it rained. So, we had him, you know.
And that happens. And that's the magic of art. And what do you think that the Māori arts can offer the world, not just New Zealand, but what can it take to the world? The stories.
The stories about, I think that what we forget is that, you know, for you and I are from Rangita Skyfather and Papatuanuku the Earth Mother, you know, we have this source that we all come from as such. But the stories, you know. And I was reminded, we had the beautiful Waka Kam last year.
We did this huge, you know, film in the water, you know, huge water screen. And for the first time, I realised, to be Māori, we came by boat, you know, waka. Now, I'm not keen on waka, so it was kind of like, you know, it was kind of like this huge, wow, how did we forget that? How did I forget that? You know, even though we go to Maru, you know, our waka, whatever, but to actually see them and to think, wow, that's part of who I am.
I love the connection with the whenua. And I love the tikanga that we are kaitiaki, we are all guardians. And I love that we must always think of our grandchildren, our great-grandchildren.
We always have to think forward, how do we want to leave this place for them? The children's fire. Aye, very much so. That's beautiful.
And we talked briefly before, the thing about what are your thoughts on non-Māori artists doing Māori work and the whole sort of talk of cultural appropriation?
Yeah, I work with a lot of groups. So we talk about the kaupapa Māori. So the kaupapa Māori, if people choose to join us, so I work a lot with Bob Bickerton.
Before that, I was working a lot with Richard Nance, we were working with Richard Nance. We had a wonderful German in our group, Peter Pressfield was in our group as a musician. So we don't, you know, artistically, we look for the skills and when it comes to kaupapa Māori, we look at nākau.
So we look at the heart of the person, you know, how does it glide with us? How does it feel? A lot of, of course, a lot of cultural appropriation happening, but it's not who we choose to work with.
Beautiful, good. And what are your aspirations for the future of Māori art within Aotearoa?
Public art in particular, when I look at the library area, for example, it was very much about my granddaughter's wairua, being able to dance and to feel free within a public space, which often Māori did not feel that they were part of that public space.
So that is very much what I'm wanting is for Māori to have a place within a public space. And for the library was very much a Māori kaupapa, but in the end, it's all of our kaupapa, and it belongs to all of us. So that is very much, you know, and so respectful, everybody who worked on the library and people who work in all the projects that I'm involved with, except that we do karakia at the beginning that we're always going to have you know, and that's just how we roll.
And if they want to say something, say it, put it on the floor. So that's just how we roll. Thank you so much.
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