In a world driven by fast fashion and throwaway culture, it’s not every day that you encounter garments crafted from the skins of freshwater eels, yellow-eyed penguins, and fur seals. That is until you step into ‘Te Whare Pora: House of Learning’, a current exhibition at community arts space Te Atamira in Queenstown, where Roka Hurihia Ngarimu-Cameron’s traditional weaving techniques transform these materials into exquisite works of art.
Roka Hurihia Ngarimu-Cameron (MNZM) is an internationally acclaimed tohunga raranga (master weaver). A former social worker turned Māori arts lecturer at the University of Otago, Roka was the first to use such traditional materials on the loom. Roka’s designs have cemented herself as a pivotal figure in the world of traditional Māori art; her weaving career spanning several decades.
Critic Te Ārohi spoke to Roka about her life and designs, which transform traditional resources into bold, contemporary, and meaningful fashion statements.
Woven with Whakapapa
One could say that weaving is in Roka’s genes. Her mother, Te Oti, was a weaver, much like her grandmother, a survivor of the Tarawera eruptions and Roka’s namesake. But Roka’s weaving heritage extends back even further to her great-grandmother, Te Raina Te Iwingaro-Hotene, a master weaver whose legacy profoundly influences Roka’s work today.
Growing up on the pā in Hāwai, in a whare ponga (traditional style of house) with an earthen floor and no electricity, weaving was far more than an art form for Roka; it was a lifeline that shaped and sustained survival. The creation of woven cloaks, rourou (baskets for cooked food), and kete for gathering berries and seafood were life essentials. While the artistry of weaving was respected, its practicality was always paramount. Roka says that her mahi is rooted in the survival skills she learned from the wāhine in her life before her: “They all survived off of Papatūānuku. Not money, but Mother Earth.”
Community Connections
As a weaver by birth and in her own right, Roka is also a weaver of community. Together with her husband, Kerry Cameron (Ngāti Kahungunu), Roka established a partnership with Kāti Huirapa Rūnaka ki Puketeraki (iwi authority) in 1988, eventually leading to the opening of Te Whānau Arohanui Trust in Waitati, Dunedin – a charitable trust dedicated to sheltering and nurturing young people in need of care. This initiative stemmed from Roka’s background as a social worker and foster parent, combined with Kerry’s as a school teacher and principal. “Kerry put all of his earnings and savings into purchasing the land,” shares Roka, reiterating their deep commitment to the trust's mission.
As foster-parents, Roka and Kerry’s aim was to guide the young people they took in, providing them with a safe place to call home. At Te Whānau Arohanui, Roka and Kerry established a harakeke plantation and taught their ever-growing community essential life skills, including mahi raranga (weaving) and mahi whakairo (carving). This endeavour was not without its hardships, and Roka shares that it could not have happened without the support of the rūnaka (iwi authority), particularly the Ellison whānau – a prominent Ngāi Tahu family. “They believed in us and gave us the mana to set up our dream in Waitati,” she explains. “It's all on the walls at Te Whānau Arohanui, why we gifted Maumahara to David – because he helped.”
Te Whare Pora: House of Learning
The fruits of these efforts are now evident in Roka’s current exhibition, showcasing her most distinguished works. Today, a peacock-feather cloak named Maumahara, in honour of the 28th Māori Battalion and all who served in both world wars, stands alongside a trove of irreplicable fashions. Among the many mannequins stands a kahu Kererū (Kererū pelt cloak) named Aotearoa, an on-loom korowai called Puketeraki – representing the partnership between Te Whānau Arohanui and Kāti Huirapa – and two kaitaka named Whero and Manono, whom Roka refers to as “the sisters”.
In addition to her own masterpieces, ‘Te Whare Pora: House of Learning’ also features a selection of creations from Roka’s current students, showcasing their progress and the skills they’ve developed under her guidance. Each garment, whether crafted by Roka or her students, embodies a blend of traditional Māori techniques and contemporary flair, reflecting the vibrant cultural narrative that Roka continues to champion. What truly stands out is Roka and Kerry's unwavering dedication to their mokopuna, with each item in the travelling collection named in their honour.
These garments not only showcase her skilful use of natural materials but also serve as a cultural bridge for visitors. “They have different cultures of the world coming here because [Queenstown] is a place where everyone comes to enjoy themselves, to spend their money, to view the beautiful maunga (mountains), awa (rivers) and roto (lakes), [because] they don't know about our culture. So this is an introduction to that, to show what a student can learn in a year, and what can be created from our natural resources,” says Roka.
A Philosophy of Kaitiakitanga
The mastery of Roka is not only found in the intricate techniques of weaving, but also within the profound narratives of kaitiakitanga embedded within her exceptional kākahu (cloaks). "I don’t feel well or stable unless I ground myself back to Papatūānuku," Roka says, underscoring her deep spiritual connection to the earth. This connection is reflected in her holistic creative process. Taking what others might discard and transforming it into art, Roka’s process involves careful preparation and preservation techniques that allow the animal skins to maintain their integrity. By repurposing these materials, Roka bridges the gap between traditional practice and contemporary environmental awareness, setting a powerful example of how cultural preservation and sustainability go hand in hand.
Roka’s philosophy not only honours the animals involved, but also embodies a deeper ecological consciousness. Each of her garments is a testament to her dedication to minimising waste and maximising the value of every resource; by preserving the body in its intact form, it is given a second life after death. “You must work with the environment, not against it,” Roka says.
One of the many standout pieces in the Te Whare Pora exhibition is a cloak made from yellow-eyed penguin pelts, meticulously woven to create a shimmering tapestry of tradition and innovation. Despite its one-of-a-kind beauty, the piece can be daunting to fresh eyes. "People come into the exhibition, and they're horrified that I've got these penguins on display," Roka shares. "But I haven’t gone out in search of these animals – usually they’ve died naturally and been used for research. It’s a good cycle, really," she explains. "It’s just like our people used to do back in their time with kurī (dog) cloaks. It was their way of keeping their pets alive [...] nothing goes to waste."
While the pelt garments may be startling and unfamiliar to many, Roka is simply continuing the practices established by her ancestors. For instance, when recreational rock climbers uncovered human remains wrapped in a cloak at Glendhu Bay, Wānaka, in 1993, it was revealed that the cloak was made from the skins of several rare and now-extinct birds, sewn tightly together. Roka references this burial cloak in her Master’s Dissertation ‘Tōku Haerenga’, highlighting its significance to weavers. Such historical textiles are of immense interest to other weavers because they reveal an array of diverse techniques used by previous generations to manipulate and work with raw materials.
Another striking garment features fur seal skins, their sleek texture providing a stark yet harmonious contrast to the intricate patterns woven throughout. The seal skin kākahu, according to Roka, serves as a tribute to tūpuna (ancestors) as a symbol of their survival. She meticulously selects materials that honour the environment and, more importantly, ensure that nothing goes to waste. “I've recycled [them] more by saying, ‘Hey, this skin is still good. Why are you disposing of it? I want to create something out of it.’”
Roka’s deep connection to te taiao (the natural world) has been an unfolding journey of discovery and skill-building. “I’ve learned how to skin a bird, how to cure the skin, and how thick a seal’s skin is compared to a kererū [...] about the neinei (spiderwood), and how to tell which plants are waterproof,” Roka shares. “That’s how we have survived and that’s how I have created art.”
The perpetuity of Roka’s learning process is essential to the continuation of her artistry, allowing her to blend traditional knowledge with modern techniques, as observed with the uncovering of necessary techniques to utilise penguin pelts and tuna skins. “I’ve recycled them,” Roka explains. “And there is so much preparation that goes into it. I had to understand how much of the fat I had to remove. I had to work with the thick skins of the seal and cure the slimy, stinking eel. Because if you don’t do the hard yards, no one could stand and lecture about it.”
Tūpuna Techniques
Roka’s process is not without its challenges. It involves considerable trial and error, extensive research, and continuous experimentation to achieve desired results. For example, another of Roka’s innovations is her tuna (freshwater eel) handbag. “When I skinned [the tuna], I thought, ‘Now what am I going to tan you with?,’’’ Roka recalls. She was determined to avoid synthetic solutions and chemicals, opting instead for a natural approach inspired by the methods of her ancestors.
“I wanted to do it naturally, in the way of our tūpuna,” she explains. “So, I stuck to their ways. I saw a big bucket of honey in my husband’s shed that he uses to heal his horse’s legs if they trip on a wire or get a cut. I thought, ‘Well, that's a quick healing process.’ And when you study the bee, you get a better understanding of the honey.”
Roka chose to use honey to cure the eel skin, a decision that proved to be remarkably successful. “It was all part of my learning journey. I didn’t get it from anybody, and it wasn’t written in a book. I had to experiment and think about it myself,” she reflects. Her enthusiasm for her craft is evident in every aspect, from the harvesting of materials to the final creation. “It’s exciting to see what you’ve created and to be part of the entire journey,” she adds, capturing the profound joy she finds in her work.
This also extends to the (even more) practical aspects of her work, such as foraging for natural resources. “Even to go up onto the mountains and harvest those beautiful [...] tikumu (mountain daisies), the tōī (mountain cabbage), and so on. But you have to be fit otherwise you’re unable to go out there and harvest. Who’s going to harvest it for you? You won’t be able to do it if you don’t know how to identify the plant you need.”
When it comes to teaching others about her lifelong mahi, Roka teaches everything there is to know in the world of raranga (weaving) – and the natural world, too. But it’s not an easy job, she says. “It’s tough because it’s not like standing up and lecturing to a group of students. I have to work one-on-one with each student to teach them how to takitahi (weaving method), how to extract the fibres from the harakeke (flax), how to identify the plants and then how to prepare those plants. Then we can get started.”
Roka’s approach to teaching is reflective of her undeniable commitment to preserving and passing on traditional knowledge through a hands-on, immersive process. By directly engaging with her students and guiding them through each step of the craft, she ensures that the art of raranga remains vibrant and relevant.
A designer in her own league, a weaver of whakapapa, and a pioneer of the revival, Roka is a testament to the enduring power of tradition and innovation, connecting the present with the past and guiding the way into the future.