MARLE WOMEN
Raukura Turei
Photography Greta van der Star
MARLE WOMEN
Raukura Turei
Photography Greta van der Star
Marle Women is a series that delves into the lives of inspiring women. Through thoughtful and intimate conversations, we uncover the unique journeys and perspectives that shape their stories.
In this edition, we speak with New Zealand-based artist and architect, Raukura Turei, whose work is deeply personal and rooted in storytelling. She shares how painting has become a tool for connection and healing and reflects on the influences of people and moments that continue to shape her artistic journey.
Fig. 1 RauKuRA WEARS THE casper jacket IN torte and relaxed jean black
Your art practice seems deeply personal. How does painting help you express your identity as a Māori woman while offering space for healing and empowerment?
My identity as a wāhine Māori has never wavered as my whānau instilled this in me through language, community and Māori education, despite the severances of whānau ties a generation earlier. Painting, however has been a pretty powerful outlet to explore and delve deeper into intergenerational trauma and create space for reconnection and healing for myself and within my whānau. Working with whenua and the stories of our atua – deities of the natural world, especially atua wāhine has defined the stories I want to share through my painting and the projects I will take on more generally, in my art practise and architecture. It has been an empowering push to focus on the projects that have substance and meaning for me right now.
Architecture often requires precision, while art embraces fluidity. How do you weave these two mindsets together in your practice?
This makes me think back to all the Bruce Lee films my dad would play us as kids. Fluid, yet precise like a ninja! But seriously, I am finding more and more that my art and architecture worlds both require a good measure of precision and fluidity as a holistic approach to a full practice. Fluidity to support the constantly shifting demands of being a parent of two young kōtiro. Precision to compartmentalise my time and make it all happen in the specified windows of work and creation. They are in fact good counterpoints to each other, as doing both keeps me sane and interest in each fresh.
There's a beautiful interplay between the materials you use and your personal narrative. How do these earthly elements carry and convey the stories you aim to share?
The whenua I use in my mahi is often gathered as an aside to time spent with the whānau in the taiao; at the beach over summer; driving past slips of red earth on road trips and looking for swimming holes and finding clay in the riverbanks. These materials are an expression my lived experience in places I feel very connected to and love to share with my kōtiro. There are also materials that connect deeply to personal narratives within my whānau such as the onepū, black iron sands which I collect along the West Coast to honour my Kuia. Or the aumoana, blue alluvial clay that was shared with me by aunties at Umupuia Marae and that I collect with them in an act of whanaungatanga and reconnection to my tūrangawaewae.
Which women, whether from your personal life or the creative world, have most profoundly influenced your journey in art and self-expression?
I was fortunate to be surrounded by many strong, creative women growing up who coloured my understanding of Aotearoa as a vibrant indigenous nation within the wider Pacific, fraught none the less with the complexities of colonisation. I remember being dragged to a lot of protests as a kid as a result, seems not much has changed! Although not an artist herself, my mother always filled our whānau home with taonga, textiles, colours and artworks from around Te Moana Nui which was such a rich visual language to have around growing up. I think back to incredible teachers like Tamsin Hanly who taught English enrichment classes to a group of us immersion reo Māori kura kids. Her very progressive and creative approach to learning was really formative in my creative confident. Seeing her father Pat’s colourful abstractions of the rainbow warrior and the nuclear free movement on the walls are a vivid influence from that time. Two mentors in my artistic education are the sculpture Marte Szirmay and architect Lynda Simmons and in beautiful irony Marte was also Lynda and Tamsin’s art teachers when they were at high school. I have also been fortunate to have Aroha Yates-Smith as a mother in-law as her research and writing on atua wāhine has feed a lot into my own practice.
"I was fortunate to be surrounded by many strong, creative women growing up who coloured my understanding of Aotearoa as a vibrant Pasifika nation, fraught none the less with the complexities of colonisation."
Motherhood often brings new layers of insight and inspiration. How has it shaped your perspective on your creative practice and the narratives you feel compelled to explore?
Having my second pēpi has given me the chance to take stock of the last 7 years of making since I started using whenua in my practice and distill this work into a Monograph. This process has been an incredible reflection of what is important to me in my practise and created space for collaboration with some incredible wāhine, many of whom have also juggled the project around hapūtanga and raising pēpi. I look to launch the book in the middle of the year so watch this space.
What rituals help you stay connected to your creative self, especially juggling multiple roles?
My body thrives with regular movement and getting into the ocean, any time of year, the West Coast is definitely the most restorative. I have religiously ridden a bike to work to clear my head in the morning and decompress on the way home. While at the office, some of my better ideas are cemented while swimming laps at The Teps to break up a rigid day sitting at a desk.
What material or medium speaks to you most right now?
I was recently taken on a kōkōwai gathering mission by a friend and weaver Lizzie Leckie during our summer holiday in Coromandel and was shown the most exquisite electric pink clay. It’s now the first thing I look to when I start mixing paint in the studio. It’s so punchy it reminds me of the hot pink oil pastels I used to work with in my early making days.
What comfort or habit helps you reconnect with your authentic self?
Quite time is precious with little ones, so I treasure moments I can tap out for a swim in the ocean, particularly alone, or take a class like yoga. Singing waiata to my girls to put them to sleep is a comfort I take for granted just how special it is.
Fig. 2 RAUKURA WEARS LENNY DRESS IN BLACK OVER RELAXED JEAN IN BLACK
"I remember being told during the first hazy months with my firstborn, after feeling like I’d never sleep again that ‘this too shall pass’, a very simple reminder that everything is in flux.
What piece of wisdom or advice has been resonating with you lately?
I remember being told during the first hazy months with my firstborn, after feeling like I’d never sleep again that ‘this too shall pass’, a very simple reminder that everything is in flux. With the beginning of new chapters for our whānau, kōtiro starting school, bigger projects, and greater pressures on the daily routine I think back to this phrase as a reminder to enjoy the little moments amongst the chaos.
What defines moments of true creativity for you?
Collaboration and taking people on the journey with you.
A soundtrack to your current state of mind?
Haha I wish I had time to explore new music at the moment. I often start a making day to Sade’s Artist Radio Playlist to set me on a sexy creative flow. Painting and dancing is a must.
Te Reo Translations
Wāhine = Women
Whenua = Land
Atua = Ancestor with continuing influence
Kōtiro = Girl
Whānau = Family
Taiao = Nature
Kuia = Grandmother
Aumoana = Oceanic
Whanaungatanga = Relationship
Tūrangawaewae = place where one has rights of residence
Pēpi = Baby
Kōkōwai = Dark red clay
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