Some words on navigating carving as Pākehā (non-Māori)
My Approach
I was born and raised in Aotearoa New Zealand as a Pākehā, with no known Māori ancestry. The landscapes, people, and cultures of New Zealand shaped who I am, and Māori culture has always been a natural part of the world I grew up in. One of the few things that makes Pākehā unique seems to me to be that we have the privilege to exist adjacent to/ alongside Māori.
Like many New Zealand children, I was captivated by what we simply called "greenstone." Today I know it as pounamu, and that childhood fascination with the beauty, depth, and character of the stone has never left me.
The pieces I carve are inspired by traditional Māori forms. I carve these forms because I find them beautiful, meaningful, and deeply connected to the stone itself. My interest has never been about adopting an identity that is not mine or claiming authority over Māori culture. I do not present myself as a Māori carver, nor do I claim to speak for Māori traditions or meanings. My work is simply my own response to forms that I have long admired. For me, carving has never been motivated by a desire to exploit Māori culture. It has always come from a genuine love of stone, craftsmanship, and the aesthetic and symbolic qualities of these traditional forms.
I also recognise that, as a Pākehā, I have a responsibility to approach these traditions with humility and care. New Zealand's colonial history caused profound harm, much of which continues to shape the present. I understand why questions are raised about who creates Māori-inspired work and who benefits from it. Those questions are legitimate, and I do not dismiss them. I accept that some people, including Māori, may feel uncomfortable with what I do, regardless of my intentions.
Living overseas has only strengthened my connection to Aotearoa. Carving is one of the few ways I can remain connected to the country where I grew up, its landscapes, and the stones that first inspired my curiosity as a child. It is a deeply personal practice that helps me maintain that connection across distance.
More broadly, I support the ongoing conversation about the place of Māori within Aotearoa. I believe the concept of Tangata Tiriti offers a thoughtful and constructive way for non-Māori New Zealanders to understand our place in the country through Te Tiriti o Waitangi. I also support open and respectful discussion about Māori sovereignty and believe that different constitutional models, including forms of shared or dual sovereignty, deserve serious consideration. These are important conversations that should be led by Māori voices, and I continue to learn from them.
I seek to source Pounamu stone from people who I believe are not exploiting the resource unethically or illegally. Furthermore, I have been out on the Rivers of Aotearoa with local Māori exchanging stone both as an economic transaction as as Koha. I am aware of the agreements made under the Pounamu Vesting Act and I support the rights of Māori over this resource.
I do not expect everyone to agree with my decision to carve Māori-inspired forms. Reasonable people, including Māori, hold different views on this subject. I do not claim that my perspective is the correct one. I simply hope that my work is understood in the spirit in which it is created: with admiration for the stone, respect for the culture from which these forms originate, and an ongoing commitment to listening, learning, and acting with humility.