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Mar 11 2025
Love0

The Inaugural Hone Tuwhare Creative Residency Fellows 2023–2024

By News

2022 was a big year for the Tuwhare Trust. We com­plet­ed the restora­tion of the crib and launched the inau­gur­al Tuwhare Cre­ative Res­i­den­cy. Our inau­gur­al Tuwhare res­i­den­cy was new, and we took a devel­op­men­tal approach and leapt in boots and all with a big bold deci­sion. To hon­our the lega­cy of Hone Tuwhare, the first res­i­den­cy was held by a col­lec­tive of Maori cre­atives; artist and activist Tame Iti (Ngai Tuhoe, Te Arawa, Waika­to); artist and writer Tracey Tawhiao (Ngai te Ran­gi, Whaka­to­hea, Ngati Tuwhare­toa) and poet and activist Ati Teepa (Tuhoe, Kai Tahu).  Tame, Tracey and Ati have spent time at the crib in Kaka Point over the last 2 years and each, in their own way, have helped us to shape the new­ly devel­oped Tuwhare Res­i­den­cy Pro­gramme that we will launch in 2025. We are so proud to have Tame, Tracey and Ati as our inau­gur­al Tuwhare Fel­lows who will for­ev­er hold this spe­cial pou as part of the whaka­pa­pa of the Tuwhare Res­i­den­cy Pro­gramme. There’s more to come soon and we are excit­ed to share more about the future of the Tuwhare Res­i­den­cy Pro­gramme. Stay tuned. Mau­ri Ora.

Jan 19 2025
Love1

60 Years of No Ordinary Sun

By News

Hone Tuwhare’s first poet­ry book, No Ordi­nary Sun turned 60 last year. It was the first sin­­gle-author poet­ry col­lec­tion by a Maori author. This sig­nif­i­cant mile­stone for Aotearoa’s lit­er­ary land­scape passed large­ly unnoticed.

Thank you to Jor­dyn at Maori Lit­er­a­ture Blog for this thought­ful post. Pos­si­bly the only per­son to fly a flag for the 60th anniver­sary of Hone’s debut 1964 col­lec­tion of icon­ic poems.

Nga mihi ki a koe Jor­dyn. Read Jor­dyn’s online arti­cle at Maori Lit­er­arure Blog 

Lis­ten to Hone recite No Ordi­nary Sun.

Above image: Hone Tuwhare read­ing No Ordi­nary Sun — Ref­er­ence: New Zealand Her­ald [250208NZHTUWHARE]

Below: Tuwhare, H. No Ordi­nary Sun. Auck­land: Black­wood and Janet Paul, 1964. First edition.

There were the 9 print runs over 18 years of No Ordi­nary Sun that pro­duced an array of stun­ning book cov­ers by some of Aotearoa’s most notable artists, many of whom were whanau, friends and col­leagues of Hone’s. This grey­ish-off-white and black 1964 first edi­tion cov­er was designed by War­wick Brad­shaw a friend of Hone’s from Whakatane and fea­tured a print that rep­re­sent­ed the effect of an atom­ic bomb blast, viewed from out of space. (Janet Hunt, 1998)

Dec 07 2024
Love1

Literary Lifelines

By News
Pouhere Taon­ga — Her­itage New Zealand has a sto­ry about the Tuwhare Crib and Res­i­den­cy in their sum­mer 2024 edi­tion of the Her­itage New Zealand mag­a­zine. Lit­er­ary Life­lines is about the spe­cial res­i­den­cies held in the homes of NZ writ­ers. The arti­cle also fea­tures the Robert Lord Res­i­den­cy in Dunedin, the Shad­bolt House in West Auck­land and the Ran­dell Cot­tage in Wellington.

” Res­i­den­cies pro­vide writ­ers with peace, qui­et and unin­ter­rupt­ed time to work but, those held in authors’ his­toric homes offer some­thing more — con­nec­tions to the cre­ative wairua housed with­in their walls”

You can read the dig­i­tal edi­tion of Her­itage New Zealand here.

The Tuwhare Trust would like to thank our supporters, partners and friends.

Friend

Do you remember
that wild stretch of land
with the lone tree guard­ing the point
from the sharp-tongued sea?

The fort we built out of branches
wrenched from the tree
is dead wood now.
The air that was thick with the whirr of 
toe­toe spear suc­cumbs at last to the grey gul­l’s wheel.

Oys­ter-stud­ded roots 
of the man­grove yield no fin­er feast
of sil­ver-bel­lied eels, and sea-snails
cooked in a rusty can.

Allow me to mend the bro­ken ends
of shared days: 
but I want­ed to say
that the tree we climbed
that gave food and drink 
to youth­ful dreams, is no more.
Pursed to the lips her fine-edged
leaves made whis­tle — now stamp
no silken trac­ery on the cracked
clay floor.

Friend,
in this drear
dream­less time I clasp
your hand if only to reassure
that all our jew­elled fan­tasies were
real and wore splen­did rags.

Per­haps the tree 
will strike fresh roots again:
give sooth­ing shade to a hurt and 
trou­bled world.

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