Pacific art has never been seen like this before

The acclaimed Lana Lopesi talks to Indira Stewart about her own journey as a writer and academic and the wero (challenge) her latest project lays down for the next generation of Pasifika.

West Auckland born and raised, Lana Lopesi MNZM was renowned in Aotearoa for her wayfinding creativity and sharp critical mind when she moved to the US where she's now an associate professor at the University of Oregon.

Lopesi is no stranger to groundbreaking works; her 2021 book of essays Bloody Woman explored the experience of being a woman and Sāmoan and received accolades. But her latest work is a legacy project and a first of its kind. Lopesi is editor-in-chief of the mammoth and mind-blowing Pacific Arts Aotearoa which features more than 100 artists and writers over six decades capturing the stories of the many hands, seen and unseen, that have collectively built Pacific arts. “Looking back helps us to look forward,” says Lopesi. “And I hope this book is a marker and a timestamp but I will hate if, in ten years, this was still the only book.”

Well, I grew up in Henderson (Auckland) and I went to Glen Eden primary. Now, I am an assistant professor in the department of Indigenous Race and Ethnic Studies at the University of Oregon. It definitely was not something I had envisioned for myself! But during Covid, I was meeting up with my good friend Dr Patrick Thomsen on Zoom every night and we would just write – in these [group] workshops. And this job came up and I asked everyone in our group ”Hey, what do you all think about this?” and they immediately said “Lana, apply!” And so they helped me put my application together. I guess I just needed to know that I could. That my New Zealand PhD might be competitive. New Zealand has a lot to offer in terms of Pacific studies but this job seemed like the chance to build something in an unknown space, which was exciting. Here I teach Pacific Islander Studies, Indigenous Feminism and Race, Indigenous and Contemporary Arts so it’s a lot of fun trying to figure it all out.

Yeah, we miss home a lot. My kids are six and nine so it was a huge decision. I love my job and I love that we made this move but for both me and my husband – our friends and family are very important to us. All four of my grandparents migrated from various places. Pacific Islanders haven’t been in New Zealand that long. So I’m just continuing that migration journey.

In terms of art – that’s an area where Pacific people do really well in in New Zealand but it’s rare to find any published works or critical writing on Pacific art. It’s completely unwritten about and underexamined. I initially became interested in Pacific art as a way to explore my own identity and I realised pretty early on that the Pacific cultural context and world view in the art space wasn’t acknowledged. So we started off putting together a Pacific art digital project first – with about 40 excerpts and contributors. Then it really just grew from there and now we have this huge book. We commissioned wide – we just wanted everyone to write something and be a part of it. In terms of what was left on the cutting room floor – I think the book could have been twice that size that it is (more than 500 pages). What we got back was overwhelming.

That's really hard. I always go back to Lindah Lepou’s piece – it doesn’t shy away from difficult subject matters. Also I think the creative approach in the form of redactions in text is really powerful. But there is something in every piece. And every time I flick through the book I find all these treasures throughout it.

When we commissioned we said, “we want you to write for us – do what you want” and that’s a really hard brief but what that meant was that we got back exactly what the artist wanted to say. So with Greg Semu’s piece you feel the visceral nature of his work when you see it but I had never heard of him writing about his childhood before. There was nothing guiding him to write about those really traumatic moments in his earliest memories – but that’s what he wanted to say. And I think when you give artists the space to tell their stories they take you into these places that you just don’t imagine. Editing that is a huge privilege and a huge responsibility because these are hard stories that might not have ever come to light on another published platform.

I think that’s kind of what print allows. When I write for print I’m going to say stuff on pages that I’m not going to say when I do a public talk. It gives someone like Fili who does have a high profile, a chance to be selective about what they want to put in too. I feel like with Fili, her words can get taken in a million directions depending on the political agenda of the people who want to take those words. But in this book she’s in a whole family or genealogy of voices that gives strength and protection. We all strengthen each other by being in the collection together and it brought out a lot of honesty. Your story and the things that you’re reflecting on sit in amongst the stories of all these elders. Many of them were also reflecting on similar journeys too.

There was a new generation of Pasifika that were a bit more brazen than their parents may have been. One of the early pieces that was commissioned was by Rosanna Raymond and she had a way of phrasing it – “we were in the warehouses and the streets and the clubs” and that’s where the art she saw was being made. So I knew when we made the book that there needed to be a space concentrating on the ’90s. We had the urban, hip-hop sort of street space that saw the rise of so many creative voices and then we also had people in gallery spaces really pushing against this idea of being boxed into a Pacific label. That moment is really important because then, in the 2000s, things sort of exploded. But also, just the imagery from that time – when we were looking through the photos we just thought, everyone was just so cool! And we really wanted to celebrate that period and bring in not just the stories but also the visuals from that time.

My answer is always that I think we have the right to range. That means every form of creative expression is a part of Pacific art. I do think you can read every artist’s work or practice as political just because of the state of Pacific life in New Zealand at the time. There were things that some of the earlier outliers did that were really revolutionary for that time. I think too with some of this younger generation who have their own pride and brazenness with their Pacific culture in a way that I think kind of mimics the ’90s. We really wanted to include every register. Our Mama artists alongside our community groups and our Venice Bienale representatives – everyone being in there together. Not everyone will self-identify their art as political.

It’s giving credit to those people and practices that are very specific and important in our communities and enrich our lives as Pacific people. Traditionally there is no separation between art and life for us. For example in a village context women’s groups are weaving and that becomes ie toga (fine mat) and so I think it’s about giving credit to that work. To the siapo (Tapa cloth) that are under our beds that we pull out at funerals. And I feel like we don’t give the funeral banner makers and the funeral badge makers enough credit. Or the 21st key carvers and it was important to give space to other forms of making. Now that I’m in the US, I make Ula Lole’s (Lolly necklaces) for my students at the end of every term. And it’s just a way for me, too, as a maker to keep doing things that keep that gifting culture alive. It also feels familiar and good. Not everyone that reads the book will be engaged or connected with art in a Western sense. Hopefully this’ll be a chance where they can see themselves and think ‘oh, I have one of those at home’. If it’s in a book you know, then it must be valuable.

With all of my published work, I put my heart and soul into it. But then once it’s done, it’s not mine anymore. It goes out to the readers. It belongs to our community. We’re dealing with 50 years of systemic exclusion from the publishing industry. That’s why a book like this becomes so important because no one has been really writing about our work or caring about our work in this way. I think the book is a good marker and a good timestamp but I will hate if, in ten years, this was still the only book. Most of the artists in this book could probably have their own monographs by now, of this size. As we would see if they were palangi. We thought if we do this and give this out then maybe it would start to be a reality and so then, maybe people will pick up that challenge and create future works.

All photographs taken from Pacific Arts Aotearoa, edited by Lana Lopesi, published by Penguin Random House NZ in association with Pacific Arts, Creative New Zealand Toi Aotearoa, RRP $65.00, out now.