title: Ko ngā whakahokinga kōrero a te hunga uiui i roto i te akomanga rumaki i te Whare Wānanga o Waikato: He pūrongo mō ngā ui pātai

authors: Nock, Sophie

subjects: Reo Māori

abstract: Ko te whāinga matua o tēnei rangahau he whakakaokao, he wetewete āno hoki i ngā whakahokinga kōrero a te hunga uiui i kake atu ai ki runga i te waka o Te Tohu Paetahi i te tau 2008, i raro i te kōawa o Rehutai, i raro anō hoki i te maru o Te Whare Wānanga o Waikato. Ka aro atu ki ngā urupare a te hunga tekau mā ono mō te kaupapa nei o Te Tohu Paetahi, ka mutu, ka matapakihia ngā kōrero me ngā whakaaro o taua hunga kia āta kitea ai, āe rānei e tika ana te whakahaere, te mahi whakaako i te reo, te tautoko mai hoki a ngā kaiwhakaako me te kura. I te mutunga iho tautoko katoa te hunga uiui ki aua mea katoa.

text: Ko ngā whakahokinga kōrero a te hunga uiui i roto i te akomanga rumaki i te Whare Wānanga o Waikato: He pūrongo mō ngā ui pātai Ko te whāinga matua o tēnei rangahau he whakakaokao, he wetewete āno hoki i ngā whakahokinga kōrero a te hunga uiui i kake atu ai ki runga i te waka o Te Tohu Paetahi i te tau 2008, i raro i te kōawa o Rehutai, i raro anō hoki i te maru o Te Whare Wānanga o Waikato. Ka aro atu ki ngā urupare a te hunga tekau mā ono mō te kaupapa nei o Te Tohu Paetahi, ka mutu, ka matapakihia ngā kōrero me ngā whakaaro o taua hunga kia āta kitea ai, āe rānei e tika ana te whakahaere, te mahi whakaako i te reo, te tautoko mai hoki a ngā kaiwhakaako me te kura. I te mutunga iho tautoko katoa te hunga uiui ki aua mea katoa.

year: 2017

title: Colonial versus ancestral legacy: The assertion of culture and identity through public arts in Kirikiriroa/Hamilton

authors: Kiff, Shirin

subjects: Ethnography

abstract: This thesis is an ethnography of Hamilton. It focuses on the role of public arts as a cultural regeneration tool and their function in shaping the community(s) in Kirikiriroa/Hamilton through building a sense of place and identity. As a qualitative study, I conducted nine semi- structured interviews with public art artists, art advocates and residents to explore the relational context within which the development and transmission of meaning takes place, a process which is central to culture and identity. The primary purpose of the research interviews was to gain insight into the factors that motivate arts organisers and planners to direct valuable limited resources into public art projects and its observable outcomes. The second purpose of the interviews, conducted while walking to public artworks in the city centre with six participants, was to examine the effect of public art on the public.
My methods also include tracking press reviews, monitoring comments and posts on social media and institutional debates involving residents, artists, and public authorities concerning public arts. I also recorded data by taking photographs and recording field notes of my observations during and after the fieldwork process. Data gathering was also enhanced by the large-scale collection of written materials and resources, including public art publications and HCC policy documents. Taken together, these research methods allowed me to investigate whether Hamilton had achieved its goals in its cultural regeneration efforts. In my analysis, I discuss the role of public art and its association with place and consider how artworks may antagonise Māori-Pākehā relationships or otherwise emphasis residents’ sense of place.
Biculturalism and monoculturalism narratives appear to dominate public arts with the purpose of invoking either a colonial legacy or ancestral legacy while the politics of multiculturalism continue to jockey for place. Colonial legacy refers to the glorifying of colonial achievements while ancestral legacy in this context refers to Māori assertion of history, culture and identity. Particularly, in this research, ancestral legacy belonging to local hapū, Ngāti Wairere. Participants’ narratives reveal four overarching themes, 1) the publics’ resistance to the making of colonial places through public art, 2) Ngāti Wairere struggles to assert ancestral legacy through public arts, 3) the need for ethnically diverse artworks to create and maintain ethnically diverse places, and 4) a yearning for a collective identity represented through public arts. Hamilton’s public artworks are variously perceived as a superficial representation of Māori culture, identity and history, a reminder of a colonial binary discourse, the colonised versus the coloniser, an assertion of either a Māori ancestral legacy or a colonial legacy or, minimally, a nod to multiculturalism. Nevertheless, my research shows that participants engagement with these artworks reveal a yearning for a local collective identity that is still a work in progress.

text: Colonial versus ancestral legacy: The assertion of culture and identity through public arts in Kirikiriroa/Hamilton This thesis is an ethnography of Hamilton. It focuses on the role of public arts as a cultural regeneration tool and their function in shaping the community(s) in Kirikiriroa/Hamilton through building a sense of place and identity. As a qualitative study, I conducted nine semi- structured interviews with public art artists, art advocates and residents to explore the relational context within which the development and transmission of meaning takes place, a process which is central to culture and identity. The primary purpose of the research interviews was to gain insight into the factors that motivate arts organisers and planners to direct valuable limited resources into public art projects and its observable outcomes. The second purpose of the interviews, conducted while walking to public artworks in the city centre with six participants, was to examine the effect of public art on the public.
My methods also include tracking press reviews, monitoring comments and posts on social media and institutional debates involving residents, artists, and public authorities concerning public arts. I also recorded data by taking photographs and recording field notes of my observations during and after the fieldwork process. Data gathering was also enhanced by the large-scale collection of written materials and resources, including public art publications and HCC policy documents. Taken together, these research methods allowed me to investigate whether Hamilton had achieved its goals in its cultural regeneration efforts. In my analysis, I discuss the role of public art and its association with place and consider how artworks may antagonise Māori-Pākehā relationships or otherwise emphasis residents’ sense of place.
Biculturalism and monoculturalism narratives appear to dominate public arts with the purpose of invoking either a colonial legacy or ancestral legacy while the politics of multiculturalism continue to jockey for place. Colonial legacy refers to the glorifying of colonial achievements while ancestral legacy in this context refers to Māori assertion of history, culture and identity. Particularly, in this research, ancestral legacy belonging to local hapū, Ngāti Wairere. Participants’ narratives reveal four overarching themes, 1) the publics’ resistance to the making of colonial places through public art, 2) Ngāti Wairere struggles to assert ancestral legacy through public arts, 3) the need for ethnically diverse artworks to create and maintain ethnically diverse places, and 4) a yearning for a collective identity represented through public arts. Hamilton’s public artworks are variously perceived as a superficial representation of Māori culture, identity and history, a reminder of a colonial binary discourse, the colonised versus the coloniser, an assertion of either a Māori ancestral legacy or a colonial legacy or, minimally, a nod to multiculturalism. Nevertheless, my research shows that participants engagement with these artworks reveal a yearning for a local collective identity that is still a work in progress.

year: 2021

title: CICADA

authors: Howell, Evie

subjects: Poetry

abstract: CICADA is a name for a noisy insect and an author and a collection of creative nonfiction poetry. It is the story of a trans woman rediscovering herself after attending an All-Boys High School. CICADA is a clear midnight sky in the lake’s mirror. It is six panic attacks trying to convince an examiner on why they should give a shit about CICADA. CICADA wants to be angry. At her high school, at herself, and at the dead boy in the lake. CICADA wants to show you the ugly side of transformation and transition. CICADA also wants to piss without crying, but it seems it’s easier to write a manuscript than it is to untangle one’s own backlog of trauma. 
Foregoing pride in being part of the LGBTQ+ community, CICADA opts to expose herself, all parts that are flesh and raw, all parts that are soft and ugly, all parts that are gruelling and never-ending. 
CICADA is a reoccurring theme of a boy lost at sea. The dead boy is everything that was, and everything that is now wasted thanks to the emergence of CICADA. He is a vessel to direct anger at. He is innocent yet blamed and scrutinized by CICADA for stealing her years from her. When you look for the dead boy in the waters, you may also see the stars in its reflection, and find the lost girl floating in dance with the beloved dead boy. 
The girl is dead potential, and everything that could have been, adrift in liminal outer space tied to a homemade spacesuit constructed by the dead boy. The dead boy and the lost girl are ghosts in the lived experience of the present CICADA, the transition, the artist, ‘the woman’ writing to the audience. Transition is often compared to a caterpillar’s journey of becoming the beautiful butterfly. CICADA is the opposite, enveloping the reader into the ugly reality of the never ending and every-day pains. The struggle to unlearn habits and to grow new skin as the old dead skin decays and rots away. It depicts a colossal range of everyday experiences and complications of living as a trans woman. CICADA overcomes tasks such as: getting dressed, showering, going to the bathroom, and even needing to revamp her social circle and career. CICADA also battles with herself. Her need to distance herself from the innate feeling of needing to educate, clashes with the desire of confronting the ignorant and standing with strength and visibility. 
CICADA aims to play with distance, humour and joins the new voice of poetry, harmonizing with other queer writers who are creating the new poetic mould. CICADA barely touches the iceberg of transgender issues as a whole. CICADA is able to say a lot about a global issue from one person’s experience. Through a magnified lens and focus on one individual experience, it provides a scale and context of how important empathy and support is for the transgender community. There will be moments unrelatable, confusing, and oddly specific that will disarm any reader. CICADA is to feel like an alien. CICADA is for no one and for everyone. CICADA is selfish enough to be about the author and not the reader.

text: CICADA CICADA is a name for a noisy insect and an author and a collection of creative nonfiction poetry. It is the story of a trans woman rediscovering herself after attending an All-Boys High School. CICADA is a clear midnight sky in the lake’s mirror. It is six panic attacks trying to convince an examiner on why they should give a shit about CICADA. CICADA wants to be angry. At her high school, at herself, and at the dead boy in the lake. CICADA wants to show you the ugly side of transformation and transition. CICADA also wants to piss without crying, but it seems it’s easier to write a manuscript than it is to untangle one’s own backlog of trauma. 
Foregoing pride in being part of the LGBTQ+ community, CICADA opts to expose herself, all parts that are flesh and raw, all parts that are soft and ugly, all parts that are gruelling and never-ending. 
CICADA is a reoccurring theme of a boy lost at sea. The dead boy is everything that was, and everything that is now wasted thanks to the emergence of CICADA. He is a vessel to direct anger at. He is innocent yet blamed and scrutinized by CICADA for stealing her years from her. When you look for the dead boy in the waters, you may also see the stars in its reflection, and find the lost girl floating in dance with the beloved dead boy. 
The girl is dead potential, and everything that could have been, adrift in liminal outer space tied to a homemade spacesuit constructed by the dead boy. The dead boy and the lost girl are ghosts in the lived experience of the present CICADA, the transition, the artist, ‘the woman’ writing to the audience. Transition is often compared to a caterpillar’s journey of becoming the beautiful butterfly. CICADA is the opposite, enveloping the reader into the ugly reality of the never ending and every-day pains. The struggle to unlearn habits and to grow new skin as the old dead skin decays and rots away. It depicts a colossal range of everyday experiences and complications of living as a trans woman. CICADA overcomes tasks such as: getting dressed, showering, going to the bathroom, and even needing to revamp her social circle and career. CICADA also battles with herself. Her need to distance herself from the innate feeling of needing to educate, clashes with the desire of confronting the ignorant and standing with strength and visibility. 
CICADA aims to play with distance, humour and joins the new voice of poetry, harmonizing with other queer writers who are creating the new poetic mould. CICADA barely touches the iceberg of transgender issues as a whole. CICADA is able to say a lot about a global issue from one person’s experience. Through a magnified lens and focus on one individual experience, it provides a scale and context of how important empathy and support is for the transgender community. There will be moments unrelatable, confusing, and oddly specific that will disarm any reader. CICADA is to feel like an alien. CICADA is for no one and for everyone. CICADA is selfish enough to be about the author and not the reader.

year: 2024-05-14