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Tuwhare Residency Programme — Applications are open now until June 1, 2025.

By Uncat­e­go­rized

Call­ing poets, cre­ative writ­ers and artists!!! The Tuwhare Trust is wel­com­ing appli­ca­tions for the new­ly devel­oped Tuwhare Res­i­den­cy Pro­gramme. We have 3 res­i­den­cies available:

  • Te Pane Kaka o Tuwhare — The Hone Tuwhare Poet­ry Residency
  • Te Ringa­toi o Tuwhare — The Hone Tuwhare Cre­ative Residency
  • Te Kaituhi o Tuwhare — The Hone Tuwhare Cre­ative Writ­ing Residency

This oppor­tu­ni­ty gives 3 cre­atives — a poet, an artist and a cre­ative writer — the chance to stay, write, think and cre­ate in Hone Tuwhare’s crib at Kaka Point. We invite you to explore these res­i­den­cies and apply! Appli­ca­tions close June 1 2025.

The res­i­den­cies are made pos­si­ble with thanks to sup­port from Cre­ative New Zealand and The Sar­good Bequest. The Tuwhare Trust is tru­ly grate­ful for this as it enables us to sup­port Aotearoa’s writ­ers and creatives.

Head to this link Tuwhare Res­i­den­cy Pro­gramme — The Hone Tuwhare Char­i­ta­ble Trust to find out more — and apply.

Nau mai, haere mai koutou ma.

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.

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)

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.